An End Has A Start
by EmotionlessNightmare
Summary: He came on his own, and that's how he left. Every end has a start, and Jasper and Eleanor are no different.
1. Prologue: Munich

**Prologue: Munich**

* * *

For as long as she can remember, Eleanor's been taught to never show true emotion to anyone, regardless of the situation.

" _The people aren't supposed to feel bad for us, darling. We feel bad for them_." She recalls her mother telling her once, in a falsely soothing voice, at age fourteen.

Eleanor didn't have the luxury of going to Eton with Liam and Robert. No, she was sent to a private school in London with Maribelle and Penelope, and she was mortified.

She was never good making friends. Liam had an easy charisma about him, that allowed him to fit in with just about any crowd, and so did Robbie. James Hill had hit the nail right on it's head. All of the 'friends' she did have were _shit_.

She was teased mercilessly for several reasons. She was scrawny, pale, and underdeveloped, and the other girls called her a _royal runt_ behind her back, while being nice as pie to her face.

But she knew.

She was thought a freak because of her cousins, and nobody wanted to associate with her, because of _them._

Once, she thought she did make friends with a group of girls to the point where she felt comfortable enough to invite them over after school.

They stole several pieces of jewelry and clothing from her when she had let her guard down, including her favourite pair of earrings that were given to her by The Dutchie. Because their fathers were Lords and high ranking government officials, it _had_ to be swept under the rug. No official investigation was ever launched.

She never did get her things back.

Only then did her father let her transfer schools, and Eleanor finally accepted the fact that no matter how much she wished it, she would _never_ be like the other girls her age.

They thought she didn't care because she was a princess. It was _because_ she was a princess she cared too much.

So when she found out that Jasper and Mandy only wanted to steal from her, it reopened an old wound, and all of her old insecurities and fears bubbled to the surface once more.

She _had_ to send him away, because it was the only way she knew how to cope.

If there was anything she learned from her mother, it was that forcing something- _someone_ \- to go away, or throwing money at it, was the only way to solve the problem.

But she's got complex problems of her own. Problems that can't be told to leave. Problems that won't take off with a leaf from her chequebook.

 _Problems that equated to feelings._

* * *

It's been four months since Robbie's been found alive, and eight since the day at the stadium.

It's also been seven months, three weeks, and five days since she last saw _him._

Not that she's been keeping track.

Eleanor's been coping with being the third wheel in her family once more the only way she knows how: drinking other people's alcohol, in other countries.

Tonight, she's in Munich, Germany. She's slowly been making her way across Europe, leaving a trail of empty bottles and full tabloids in her wake.

She thought maybe, _just maybe,_ he might try and stalk her again.

But she's got a two man team travelling with her this time, so _his_ efforts are no longer needed. And besides, _he_ has never been one to defy a direct request from a teary-eyed princess.

Liam asked her once why she started drinking so much again. She denied it, and said she's not drinking any more than usual. Besides, she reminded him, at least she's not doing cocaine anymore.

But the truth is, that it's because every time she closes her eyes, she sees _his._

She sees _his_ crystal clear blue eyes shining with unshed emotion as she tells him to leave and not come back.

She hears the crack in _his_ usually confident voice as he reluctantly agrees with her request.

She sees _him_ turn, slowly, and leave her room, looking just as broken as she feels on the inside.

And it won't go away.

So she'll keep travelling until it does.

* * *

The bass is pounding loudly in her ears as she moves her body in time with the music. She's invisible in the dark, and that's the way she likes it. She knows that Hassan and Colin are nearby, but she doesn't care. No one would dare to put their hands on her anyway. This isn't that kind of place.

She's seen this band in particular before; they've got a modest following back home. But she knows they're always a good time.

She stills when she opens her eyes. Because several feet ahead, there's a tall, light-brown haired man in a tight white t-shirt, with broad shoulders jumping in perfect sync with the crowd up front.

Eleanor recalls dragging _him_ to one of these concerts before. He had told her on the drive back to the palace that he enjoyed their music.

That it seemed less like a work obligation.

 _And more like a date_ , she added mentally. They were both thinking it, and neither wanted to voice it.

He fucked her good and hard later that night with their music playing in the background.

Eleanor stumbles at the memory, almost falling headfirst into the crowd. Suddenly there's a pair of firm, strong, and familiar hands on her, pulling her back to her feet. She looks up to see Hassan, staring down at her with concern etched across his naturally tanned face. She nods to him, confirming that she's fine, and whispers in his ear that she wants to leave. _She has to_.

He waves to Colin, who's a few feet ahead of them. He's pushing back against the crowd in seconds, and at her other side. He wraps his arm around her, protectively; like an older brother would.

In many ways Colin and Hassan _are_ her older brothers.

They don't see her as a sexualized plaything, or some demonic hellian, out to conquer the world, one vodka soda at a time. They're not there to dominate her, or steal from her. They respect her, and her choices. And get her soda water and tell everyone else that she's got alcohol, when she actually doesn't, because they know she's trying to keep up appearances, too.

They're fiercely protective of her to boot. She doesn't know where James Hill found them, but they're the best detail she's ever had. Besides James, of course.

Eleanor chances a look over her shoulder and sees _him_ staring back at her, his jaw slack. Clearly, he hadn't expected to see her there, either. Once he realises that she has seen him, too, he snaps out of his trance.

And then he's pushing through the crowd, determination etched on his sweaty face. His shirt clings to his chest as he pushes people out of his way, ignoring their expletives and protests.

" _ELEANOR!"_ He shouts over the music as she turns back. " _WAIT!_ "

Her heart clenches in her chest.

 _No_.

Colin's hand tenses on her shoulder, because he hears him too. He doesn't know about her history with Jasper. Hassan leaves her side, and falls back to keep Jasper away from her, as per protocol. There's a no contact order in place for the Princess, just like she's requested.

" _LEN!"_

She stops then.

He's never _not_ called her Eleanor. Not to her face, anyway.

She looks up at Colin. "A former acquaintance. Tell Hassan to bring him to the car. He can come back to the hotel with me."

Colin nods, indicating that he's heard her, and continues shuffling her toward the exit as he nods to Hassan, confirming that she wants him to escort the mystery man out with them.

She doesn't look back as Colin leads her through a back hallway to the underground parking garage where they've kept the car. Once he's sure they're alone, Colin fishes out a key fob and wordlessly unlocks the black Lexus, and opens the back door for her as the lifts open, and Jasper strolls out with Hassan hot on his heels.

She slides into the back, leaving the door ajar.

He gets in next to her, and slams it shut.

The scent of _him_ hits her for the first time in months, and her breath hitches in her throat. Colin starts the car, and then they're off, a painfully awkward silence hanging in the air between them.

"What in the fuck are _you_ doing in Munich?" She demands suddenly, turning to face him.

" _What in the fuck am I? What in the fuck are you?"_ He flinches at her sudden outburst; but he's quick to retaliate. This clearly isn't how he expected a reunion with her to go. He isn't quite sure how a reunion with her ought to look like, but it definitely isn't an argument in the back of a car with her two new bodyguards sitting in the front seat.

"I'm a goddamn Princess, Jasper, I can go wherever the fuck I want." She fires back. "Like _you_ don't know where I've been-"

"My life doesn't revolve around _you_ , contrary to popular belief," he interjects, cutting her off.

"Not anymore, it doesn't," she mutters to herself, before slumping back in her seat and folding her arms across her chest. "This was- _is-_ a mistake-"

"No," he says firmly, casting a quick look at the two in the front seat. "I've been here for two months."

" _Why_?" Eleanor asks, her tone surprisingly desperate and demanding. " _Why_ in the hell are you still in Europe? _Go home_!"

She shuts him up with that comment, because she has no goddamn clue. Not one single fucking clue.

* * *

Jasper climbs out of the car, and holds the door open for her.

"She knows where her room is, I'm sure," he clips to the other two.

" _You_ don't work for Royal Security anymore, so _you_ don't get to order them around. Even if you did, you would be of no higher rank than they are, so put a bloody sock in it," she snarls, but takes his offered hand as she gets out, making sure to dig her nails into his palm before releasing him.

Jasper raises his eyebrows to her, confidence etched across his face. He boldly leans toward her and easily trails his fingers along the waistband of her jeans to wrap around her slender waist, leaving a trail of fire in his wake as she turns to Hassan. Hassan's staring at her, a cautious expression on his face as he's putting two and two together in his head.

He's heard the stories about Her Royal Highness' former bodyguard, and the turbulent relationship that she had with him. Other staff members warned him about her because of it.

The Princess has been nothing but kind and professional with him since he's joined her detail.

"You two are done for the night. And you don't breathe one word about _this-_ " she gestures to Jasper- "to anyone. _Especially_ Liam, Robbie, and James. Do you understand me?"

"Enjoy the rest of your evening, Your Highness," Hassan says evenly, locking his dark eyes with Jasper's, his expression narrowing slightly, his tone warning. He's just as protective of her, if not more, than Colin is. She reminds him far too much of his sister, in both good and bad ways. "I'll be sure to to pass your message on to your brothers that you've decided to retire early this evening because you're not feeling well, and you're not to be disturbed. Let Colin or I know if you need _anything,_ Princess."

"I will," she says sincerely, and turned around, and allowed Jasper to lead her into the hotel, and push her towards the lifts.

His fingers burn against her exposed skin again. She wasn't sure if it was because she was already overheated from being in the crowded concert hall, or from the humid night air. Regardless, the rough pads of his fingers against her smooth skin are igniting the most inconvenient flesh memories within her, and it's going straight between her thighs, and painfully so at that. Her mind- _and body_ \- know _exactly_ what those fingers are capable of. She shivers at the thought.

The lift doors open, and they step inside, and then they're alone. She leans forward and keys in an access code to her penthouse suite, and then he pulls her back.

Jasper can't keep his hands off of her, and for the first time in nearly a year, she doesn't protest. She's too tired, and he's too familiar.

The lift dings, and the doors slide open to reveal the modern entry way she shares with the other suite. Eleanor reaches into her bag, and pulls out her access card, and swipes it through the door, and pushes it open.

He follows her inside, and slams the door shut behind him.

"I want _you_. _Right now_. We can talk in the morning," he says before she can even open her mouth.

Her eyes widen slightly.

It's been nearly eight months since they last laid eyes on each other.

Over a year since they'd last been intimate.

And yet, she still feels _that pull._

So she nods ever so slightly, and it's all the invitation he needs.

He moves forward so fast she barely has time to register what's going on. His hands are sliding around her neck and tangling into her hair, pulling her head back as his lips descended on hers. Her hands fly up and grip the front of his t-shirt as his teeth roughly pull at her bottom lip.

She knows exactly what he wants, and she smirks against his mouth as a result.

Jasper groans deep within his throat, and she's lost. His bedroom sounds are the most erotic thing she's ever heard. One of his hands untangle from her hair and roughly grabs her ass, pushing her up against his erection.

" _You_ do this to me. _Only you,"_ his voice is husky and strained against her ear as he blatantly grinds himself into her. She can feel every goddamn inch of him against her and she's breathless when she pulls back to look at him.

His pupils are just as dilated as hers, and his eyes are just as hooded.

And then he smiles. That slow, gorgeous, smug, panty-dropping smile of his.

Now that she's looking at him in the light, she can see that his hair is shorter than how he usually wears it. It's unstyled and messy on the top, but cropped closely to the sides. He's got a few good days worth of stubble on his face, and despite the blatant arousal evident in his blue eyes, she can tell he's tired.

He's tired in the same sense that she is. It's something a little more than exhaustion, and affiliated with the _unknown_.

Eleanor soundlessly reaches up and winds her hand around his neck, pulling his mouth back down to hers, her lips parting on impact. His tongue immediately seeks hers out, and it's just as she remembers; hot, heavy, and aggressive. He tastes just the same; a hint of spearmint from the gum he's always chewing and something else that is entirely _Jasper._ Her other hand roughly palms him through his jeans, and he releases her.

She stumbles back, effectively breaking their kiss and he's lurching forward to wrap his arms around her waist and pulling her back to him.

"You're wearing too much, baby. _Go take it off._ " He commands her gruffly.

" _Why don't you_?" She challenges, and then turns on her heel and marches off toward the bedroom.

Eleanor's barely reached the door when one of his arms darts out of nowhere, and tightly wraps around her middle while his free hand knots into her hair, exposing her neck to him. Jasper pushes the length of his body against the back of hers as his lips move her neck; nipping and licking in _exactly_ the right spots.

A small, throaty moan escapes her lips as her fingers curl against the dark wooden door, her nails scratching it slightly as he roughly turns her over to face him.

She's breathless as she stares at him, her chest rising and falling in tandem with his own. Eleanor slowly moves her arm down the door and wraps her hand on the door handle, and pushes it down and easily moves inside the darkened room.

Jasper follows her in, and closes the door behind him, effectively shrouding them in near darkness. The curtains are drawn, but several small slivers of light are streaming through, illuminating a small path to the large king sized bed on the opposite side of the room.

Eleanor recalls her earlier musings about feeling more comfortable under the cover of darkness. But _this_ is different because she knows that he can see her just fine.

She doesn't know much about his life in Las Vegas, and she briefly wonders if he was medically experimented on because he seems to have perfect night vision to compliment _the way-_ silently, stealthily- he's slinking towards her right now.

Jasper stands inches away from her, and his fingers grasp the hem of her top. His eyes don't stray from hers as he lifts the cool, black silk over her head and sends it fluttering to the floor behind him.

" _I miss you,"_ he breathes against her neck as his hands rest on the bare skin of her waist. " _I miss the feeling of being inside of you, Eleanor."_

Her breath hitches because she misses it, too. But she'll be damned if she admits it out loud. Her fingers tighten on his shoulders. His lips brush across the tender skin behind her ear.

" _I miss the way you look when you're sleeping. And the way you curl up beside me right before you wake up. I miss everything about you, Eleanor. Every. Goddamn. Thing."_

" _Shut up, Jasper_ ," she says hoarsely, pushing on his chest with her fingertips. "You don't get to say those things to me. Not now. Not after everything that you've done. Not after all that's happened."

" _Then let me come home and make it up to you._ "

" _Shut up_ ," she repeats tightly as she flattens her palms against his chest. She can feel the tears welling up behind her eyes as she pushes him away from her. " _Shut up_ …"

Eleanor turns away and inhales deeply as she looks up toward the ceiling. She refuses to let him see her cry.

Because of him.

Because of their past.

 _Again_.

Because she misses him, too. She misses seeing him slinking around the palace. Hearing his voice through Liam's door. The smell of him in her sheets. The innocence on his face while he sleeps. And it's the single most terrifying thing she's ever felt.

The second she lets him back _in,_ she's sure that he's going to tear her down. She knows that she won't be able to handle it. Not this time. He's burned her too much.

Jasper Frost _will_ be the one to break her, in every sense of the word.

His arm slowly wraps around her waist, holding her in place as his other hand holds tightly onto her forearm. He gently nuzzles into her hair, and she can hear him breathing _her_ in. His breathing is haggard and uneven.

Her heart pounded so loudly in her chest she could hear it in her ears. She was so sure he could hear it, too.

" _Please Eleanor_ ," he murmured in her ear, his lips grazing her as they puckered as he spoke.

Jasper isn't a desperate man, but he was in every sense of the word when it came to _her_. It infuriated him to no end. _She_ had made him soft. All he wanted was to make her happy. He didn't want to be her bodyguard again.

He was the furthest thing from royalty. He had no title, no capital, and he certainly didn't have a respectable familial background. His family name had Danish and German origins, and that's all he knew. He never cared to find out because the only thing he had cared about once upon a time was making a name for _himself._

All of it changed the second he realised he was in love with her.

* * *

 **A/N:** A little something I've been toying with for the past week or so. I'll be keeping this one on a weekly update schedule. Hope you like!


	2. Salvation

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your reviews for the Prologue! This chapter is a flashback. See you lovelies next Saturday!

* * *

 **Chapter 2: Salvation  
**

* * *

" _I thought there wouldn't be any blackmail sex tonight, bodyguard? You normally have Tuesday nights off, do you not?" Eleanor snarked at him from her bed without looking up. She was lying on her side, her back to him, still fully clothed in the loose black dress she had worn that day._

 _It was hiked high up on her torso around her waist, leaving her cheeky knickers and ass on full display for him._

 _And anyone else who may have come into her room that evening._

 _He promptly locked her bedroom door at the thought of anyone else seeing her like this._

 _Eleanor has long stopped caring about modesty in his presence. He wasn't sure if he should be happy, or disturbed._

 _She was high, he could tell by the slight slur in her voice. Judging by the small silver platter that was currently half hanging off of her desk, cocaine was her poison of choice this evening. She rarely did anything on the nights he stayed with her anymore. And if she did, she waited until she thought he was asleep._

 _He would, in turn, lie in her bed, his eyes tightly shut as she carefully- too carefully- slid out and would snort or smoke something for about fifteen minutes, and come back, and curl up on her side as far away from him as possible._

 _The Princess wasn't a cuddler. She didn't like him touching her if it weren't sexual. Eleanor allowed him to touch her because she was scared. Of him. Of what he could do to her if she said no, or displeased him._

 _He'd never lay a hand on her in that way. Or any woman for that matter. He was raised better than that, at least. No, he's got an emotional hold on the Princess that's stronger than anything else he could physically do to her._

 _So, she gives into him. Every. Time._

 _Eleanor always comes around, eventually. She'll curse him out, throw things at him, and berate him to no end, because she's a Princess and she's been taught that she's allowed to do that to the help. Because technically, that's all he is._

 _Regardless, she gives in. Every. Goddamn. Time._

 _It wasn't for a lack of trying for more with her. He knew his limits. He had tried to spoon her one night, and she went completely rigid. She had moved away from him without a word._

 _He wasn't her boyfriend._

 _He was just her bodyguard._

 _Princesses didn't cuddle with their bodyguards._

 _There was no sex tape. She had been foolish enough to believe that it existed, without seeing any proof. He would be just as guilty as she, and the last thing he wanted was his package on the Internet._

 _Her vagina was already there, so it would have been nothing new. Or so he thought._

 _Princess Eleanor was not who he thought she was. Not in the least bit._

 _And that scared him, too._

 _Seeing her, like this, made him feel bad for what he was doing to her. For what he was going to do to her, when this was all over._

 _Eleanor was particular about her jewelry. She didn't like wearing pieces from the crown jewel collection because she felt like she didn't deserve to wear it. She preferred to wear pieces that were sentimental. That other people- like her father, brothers, or grandmothers- had given to her as gifts. He saw the way her eyes would light up if someone recognized that she was wearing something that was given to her._

 _She liked being recognized for good deeds from other people. It was likely because he had seen her mother tear her down so much it was almost disturbing._

 _And that was a whole other level of trauma he hadn't expected to deal with when he had taken on this job. This con._

" _Morris asked for the night off because it's his anniversary," he explains tightly, stepping further into her darkened room. "I offered to pull a triple shift since you don't normally go out on Tuesday nights. I'd be sleeping in the staff quarters anyway. What's one more night away from home?"_

" _Lucky you," she deadpanned, and then falls silent._

' _LOOK AT ME!' He wanted to scream at her.  
To get her to do anything but lie there in a heap. But he didn't._

 _She was so, so broken. Samantha didn't get it, because she didn't know. He had tried to explain to her that it wasn't as simple waltzing into the Jewel House and unlocking the display case. There were cameras. Fingerprint scanners. Technical things that she didn't- wouldn't- understand._

 _And Eleanor._

 _The Koh-i-Noor was England's most prized jewel._

 _He begged to differ._

 _Eleanor's soul outshone that diamond on the brightest of days. And he wished he could just tell her. He wished that he could just show her, because he wanted so badly for her to believe in herself, even just for a moment._

 _He slowly removed his suit jacket, and draped it over the back of one of the chairs and began to untie his tie. She extended her legs, stretching, and her goddamn dress finally fell down far enough to cover her ass._

" _My mother's annual charity masquerade is next Thursday night," she began quietly. He usually had Tuesday and Thursday nights off. And she knew it, too. His hands stilled on the buttons of his shirt, cautious of the direction this conversation was heading._

" _Are you not going?"_

" _Oh, I'm required to go," she said darkly. "And so are you."_

" _You won't be leaving the palace, Your Highness. There will be plenty of other guards on duty, I'm sure," he replied, lowering his hand and rested it against the top of her sofa. His hand clenched into a fist._

 _This could damn well be his chance, if he played his cards right. He'd be back home, in Las Vegas, by next weekend._

 _The thought alone made his stomach churn._

" _That may be true, but I'd prefer to have my personal detail guarding my body," she drawled, finally rolling onto her back. Her head lolled to the side so she could look at him through narrow, glassy eyes. "Tuxedo. Only."_

" _And what will you be wearing?" He asked, locking eyes with her._

" _I don't know," she rolled her eyes, clearly disinterested. "I'll have some pieces delivered the day of, and choose then."_

" _And your effects? Perhaps something from the royal collection to mark the occasion?"_

 _She snorted then, and rolled her eyes. "It's a masquerade, Jasper, not a bloody state dinner. The tiaras are dreadfully out of date and extremely uncomfortable."_

" _The necklaces seem lovely. That big diamond would look nice-"_

" _-that doesn't belong to us," she interjected as she sat up, and crossed her legs as she situated herself in the middle of the bed. "That belongs to the people. We don't wear it out of respect for them. Besides, it would be uncomfortable and heavy, don't you think?"_

 _He blinked. He hadn't expected her to reply with something so good natured. And kind._

" _Whatever you choose will look fine," he said easily, and then resumed unbuttoning his shirt. "How much coke have you done?"_

 _Her eyes rolled again. "What are you, the narcotics police tonight, too?"_

" _Just making sure that I'm not going to be fucking a dead fish in about five minutes."_

 _And there it was. He immediately regretted saying it. He shouldn't have said it. But it was out of his mouth before he could even register that the thought had even crossed his mind. If he had any shred of human decency, he'd apologise to her, right this second._

 _Eleanor's jaw tightened, and her eyes fluttered shut._

 _He'd hurt her with his words._

 _A pained look crossed her face, so briefly he barely saw it. It was almost as if he had physically struck her._

 _The guilt was overwhelming in that moment. He wanted to apologise. Tell her he didn't mean it. That he didn't mean any of it. That there was no sex tape. That he loved her, and that he was sorry._

 _He loved her?_

 _He loved her._

 _He hadn't loved a single person in his life, ever. His parents, once, maybe. But that had soured when he told them he was getting out. They had berated the shit out of him for it. Told him to go, if he thought he was so much better than them. Than the lifestyle that they had raised him in._

 _He didn't love Samantha. He couldn't. She was so heartless and cold. All she cared about was the money. The next job. This was nothing but a game to her._

 _Just like her father._

 _Just like his father._

 _Sure, the sex was great- but nothing compared to what he was getting now. Eleanor wasn't afraid to fight him back. She met him easily thrust for thrust. And goddamn if she didn't fit perfectly-_

" _Are we going to have sex, or not? I have a schedule tomorrow, and I'd like to be somewhat coherent," she snapped, breaking him out of his reverie._

" _Well get over here and take off my pants, then," he fired back without hesitating._

 _Her eyes narrowed, but she complied. She slowly slinked toward him, cat like, almost- and rested a delicate hand on his belt buckle._

 _He had to kiss her. Had to._

 _Eleanor stumbled slightly from his force, and he poured his apology into it. He couldn't say it. He couldn't tell her why he was there. Not yet. He just hoped she got the message._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I love you._

 _I'm sorry._

 _I love you._

 _Her hands were fluid, and she roughly pushed his trousers down his hips. She reached into his boxers and grasped him tightly, and expertly began stroking his hard length with nimble fingers._

" _Take off your dress," he murmured in her ear._

 _She pumped him a few more times, and withdrew her hand from his boxer briefs. She stepped back, and grabbed two fistfuls of fabric and pulled it over her head and sent it flying across the room, making sure to hit him in the shoulder with it first._

 _She smirked at him as his shoulder moved back slightly from the impact. She was over it. She'd heard worse from other people. People more significant in her life than him._

 _He reached for her then, and wrapped his hands around her waist and roughly grabbed at her behind as she threw her arms around his neck, pressing her bare breasts against his chest._

 _Fuck, she had such a great ass. He wouldn't expect anything less from royalty._

" _You make me so hard, Eleanor. So fucking hard," he breathed in her ear. He could hear her breathing hitch. She loved it when he talked dirty. Always did, right from the minute he told her he was going to fuck her cunt so hard she wouldn't be able to walk the next morning on their first night together._

" _Fuck me, then," she taunted, pulling back slightly as she framed his face in her hands. "I'm so horny, Jasper."_

" _You're always so wet for me," he replied, not breaking her gaze as he slipped his hand down the front of her underwear, and pressed his fingers against her clit, and then continued on down to her soft mound._ _Sure enough. "Always, Princess."_

 _She involuntarily drew her bottom lip between her teeth as he sunk two fingers deep inside of her, and swirled them around as his thumb pressed hard against her clit._

 _He teased her for a bit longer, until his own needs became too much._

 _He wanted her._

 _He needed her._

 _Jasper slowly withdrew his fingers from her, and wiped them on the side of her knickers before he roughly ripped them from her body, and sent them soaring to the floor. She frowned slightly, but leaned forward to kiss him._

 _She tasted so goddamn good. Something that was so purely Eleanor; and she was more addicting than any drug she could ingest._

 _I love you._

 _He blindly pushed down his boxer briefs, and pushed her back towards her bed until she fell backwards, and sprawled on top of her blankets, naked as the day she was born. He drunk in the sight of her as she leaned back on her elbows in the centre of her bed, and slowly spread her legs for him._

 _He smiled then. A slow, genuine smile, reserved only for the Princess as he climbed on the bed, settled himself between her thighs, easily covering her long, thin body with his own. Jasper shifted his hips, and slowly eased himself inside of her as she moved to to lie flat. Her arms curled around his shoulders, with one hand burying itself in his hair, and pulled lightly so she could kiss him._

 _He rarely took her like this. It was too intimate for him. For her, too. But right now, it was the only thing he wanted. He wanted to see her face while he made love to her, whether she believed that's what it was or not._

 _Eleanor Henstridge would never forgive him for what he was going to do to her. It'd been six months of this. With her._

 _It's been years of planning, though. He had to go through with it. There was so much riding on this con. His whole future was in his hands, and he couldn't give up now. He was in too deep. He had to follow through. Had to._

 _She'd get over it, eventually. She'd never trust a damn soul again, but she'd get over it._

 _He had to tell himself that._

 _Jasper knew damn well she'd never recover. But he had to convince himself that she would._

 _He'd break her._

 _He'd never be able to see her, ever again._

 _The thought alone made his heart skip a beat._

 _He couldn't do it._

 _Not to her._

 _Not to Liam._

 _Not to Ted._

 _Not to her father._

 _Hell, not even to her witch of a mother._

" _Jaspuuuur," she moaned, gripping his neck tightly and nipped at his chin as he moved within her with skilled ease. He pressed a rough kiss to the side of her mouth as one of his hands trailed down her body, and hitched her leg over his hip, allowing him to go deeper. Harder. Faster._

" _God, Eleanor, you feel so good around me. You have no fucking clue," he grunted against her, burying his face in her shoulder. He was so close. So. Fucking. Close. "So goddamn tight…"_

 _I love you._

" _So … close…" she whimpered softly, throwing her head back. Her free hand involuntarily flew over her head and gripped the sheets as he picks up his pace. He's not going to let go until she does. He owed her that much._

 _She rarely lets her guard down with him around. His hand snakes up to tangle his fingers with hers. He'd be damned if he wasn't going to feel all of her in that moment. If he's going to lose her- he might as well make the most of it now._

 _And then she comes, and it's the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He can't shut his eyes as her back arches, and her toned thighs grip his hips as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. She's panting and gripping his fingers so tightly with her own he can't help but squeeze back as his own release quickly builds up. It's as if his own body somehow knows that it's go time for him, too._

 _Jasper abruptly releases her hand, and moves to cup her face in both of his, and roughly presses his lips against hers, breathing in her breath as he releases himself deep inside of her, moaning. Her tongue darts out, gently touching his lips, purposefully teasing him. He lightly nipped her bottom lip before forcing his own into her mouth, kissing her deeply._

 _I love you._

 _Finally, he pulls back, his breathing unsteady as he rests his forehead against her shoulder. Her legs slowly drop from his sides, and he gets the hint. She wants him off of her so she can go get cleaned up and go to bed._

 _Sex aside, it is late. She's got a full schedule tomorrow, and he needs to accompany her on her travels. If she needs to be coherent, he needs to be in top form._

 _Sighing, he slips out of her, and rolls onto his back. Jasper drapes his arm across his face, shielding his eyes as the bed shifts as she quickly gets out, and darts through the darkness to her fake armoire to get to her bathroom. He hears the door slam shut inside seconds later._

 _Only then he exhales. He forces himself to get up and finds his discarded boxer briefs and slides them back up his legs. There's a discarded bottle of water that he had earlier on the table, and he unscrews the cap and drains the bottle as she reemerges, dressed in a tiny pair of shorts and a soft fabric bra._

 _She eyed him cautiously as he took her in. All of her. Her hair is still mussed from his hands, and her eyes aren't as glossy as they were earlier. She's more sober now._

 _It's always awkward after because neither of them want to give anything up. They're not a couple. They don't get the luxury of post-coital bliss._

 _He's the first to look away as he carefully sets the bottle down on her coffee table, and heads into the bathroom to clean himself up._

 _Ten minutes later, he reemerges into her dark bedroom, and he briefly contemplates leaving for the night. He could, technically. She wouldn't say anything. She wouldn't say anything if he stayed, either._

 _But there's something about seeing the Princess curled up on the side of of her king-sized bed, alone, that makes him feel guilty. Again._

 _Samantha always did say that his humility was his biggest downfall. That he was too sweet. That someday, it was all going to come back and bite him in the ass if he didn't pull it together._

 _Eleanor didn't recognise that because she didn't know that side of him._

 _Sighing, he closed the door and set the alarm on his phone to wake him up before her. He's going to have to go back down to his room and shower and change because he can't go to work smelling like sex and her._

 _But he needs her to know that he's sorry, for all of it. Jasper slides into bed, on the left side, as always. She doesn't stir, but he knows she's still awake. He moves closer to the centre of the bed, and reaches for her. Again, she tenses as his arm wrapped around her waist, and pulled her flush against his chest. Her chest rises and falls, and her jaw is set, but still, she doesn't say anything._

 _He brushed her hair off of her ear, and rested his chin on her shoulder and took a deep breath._

" _What I said- I didn't mean it. I'm sorry," he breathes into her ear, just loud enough for her to hear. "I'm so goddamn sorry."_

 _Her head nods slightly, indicating that she's heard his apology._

" _We're going to have a good day tomorrow," he continued. "Goodnight, Princess."_

 _She's silent against him, but her shoulders finally fucking relax for the first time in five and a half months, and she doesn't move away._

 _She's still in his arms when he wakes up in the morning._


	3. All the Kings

**Chapter 3: All The Kings**

* * *

Eleanor turns her body in his embrace, but she doesn't move away because she secretly still likes the feeling of his rough hands on her. It's been so long. She's missed the warmth. He's always been so, so warm.

" _Why_?" She asks hoarsely. " _Why should I let you?_ "

"I've changed," Jasper says flatly, and abruptly releases her. "Everyone believes it. Even your mother. Everyone but _you_."

"Oh, shame on me for wanting to protect myself from getting hurt _again_ \- that's it, isn't it?" Eleanor fires at him. "Can you honestly blame me for being skeptical of your intentions?"

Her words hang in the air between them, because the notion hadn't occurred to him. He'd spent so much goddamn time and effort trying to make it up to her- _indirectly_ \- to the point where he had just assumed that she'd just recognise all of his good efforts and take him back without hesitation.

That she'd give him another chance because he knows that somewhere in her stubborn, bitchy brain, she knows that she's got feelings for him, too.

Eleanor's got every right to protect herself against him, and he's selfish enough to ask her for one more night so he can prove his worth to her.

She wants it too.  
Wants _him_ , too.

"I'm so, _so_ , sorry," he says. Nothing more, nothing less.

Eleanor's heard those words from him dozens of times, because he's fucked up more times than she can count. But this time, he _finally_ sounds defeated. It finally sounds the most sincere.

"Why are you in Munich?" she asks again, bending down to pick up her top so she can put it back on. She slides it back over her head and fluffs her hair out over her shoulders and turns to face him, her arms crossed protectively across her chest.

Whatever intense, intimate moment that he was trying to have with her is going to have to wait until she gets more legitimate answers out of him. He _had_ seemed genuinely surprised to see her at the concert. So maybe, he wasn't following her.

Not that she wanted him to be.

Not that she was hoping that he would.

Well, maybe she was.

Just a bit.

"I've just been travelling," he sighs, sitting down in the wingback chair by her bed. "Just going to these places I've always wanted to go. I've got some money in the bank-" he stops abruptly, then. She realises that he's realised he's said too much.

She raises her eyebrows then. " _Oh really_?" She says heatedly, taking a step towards him. "Pray tell, how did _you_ ' _get money in the bank',_ exactly, Jasper?"

Jasper swallows, and she can tell he's nervous. She can't recall a time that she's actually seen Jasper Frost _nervous_.

"Your mother gave me three million pounds to go away and made me promise to not come back," he admits, looking at his hands. His voice is shaking. He _knew_ he shouldn't have taken the cheque.

"So you're telling me, that my _mother_ , _The Queen of England_ , paid _you-_ my ex-bodyguard who blackmailed me for _six_ fucking months- _to disappear right after The King's Cup_?" Her voice is deathly calm. Too calm for someone who's just had about eight months of heartbreak suddenly make sense.

Helena had sworn that she was done interfering in her life. She had sworn to Eleanor that she had nothing to do with Jasper's abrupt and sudden departure from the palace.

She'd never admit it out loud, but she _had_ been terribly hurt when he had left without saying goodbye. Especially after what had transpired between them in the stadium. She hadn't expected him to fight to stay, after she had told him to go. She had seen the look in his eyes when he came see her afterward. But at least- something. A wave. A letter. Something. _Anything_.

And now she knows why.

"Yeah," he says finally, dropping his head into her hands. "I'm sorry. I wanted to say-"

She holds her hand up, indicating that she's done listening. She's heard enough excuses from him to last a lifetime, and she's done. Done with all of it. Eleanor storms across the room, and pulls open the doors and heads back out into the sitting area to find her bag. She doesn't care that it's the middle of the night in London. Her mother's going to get a bloody earful.

"Don't call her," he says. He's not commanding her. He's not telling her what to do. He's just suggesting.

"She promised me that she didn't," she whispers, clutching her iPhone in her hands. "She promised me she didn't have anything to do with your departure!"

"I shouldn't have taken the money," he whispers back urgently, stepping into the room and stands behind her. "I should have stayed. _You_ needed me. After what happened in the stadium … and I just took off … And I needed you, too, Eleanor. I _still_ goddamn need you."

 _"You said you'd be there. With me."_

She licks her lips, and tries to steady her breathing. It's all too much. He's too much. Jasper's never been so forward with his emotions toward her, ever. And she knows that if she decides to even entertain the notion of letting him back in, it would be intense. A whole other kind of feeling she isn't used to, because no one loves irrevocably in her family, and it frightens her. It frightens her more than anything else.

 _Love?_

 _Love._

"Len," he breathes, though it sounds more like a sigh. He's against her again, and the smell of _him_ is so intoxicating she could drown in it. She wants to. More than anything. "Let me show you how sorry I am. _Please_. _Just give me tonight._ "

Eleanor damn well knows that it just isn't going to be _tonight_. She's not stupid.

 _Tonight_ turns into _tomorrow._

She's not ready to go home just yet. She wants to keep travelling. She wants to go to Rome, and then round back to France, and then _maybe_ she might go home.

 _Home_ is where her real responsibilities are. She'll have to suck it up eventually, or Robbie's going to be sending word that she needs to come back. Colin and Hassan cannot- _and will not-_ defy a direct order from the King of England.

He's letting her do what she needs to do to get _whatever's_ going on out of her system. It wouldn't be the first time she's brought her problems home with her. After all, she was travelling to forget him. Not to find him and forgive him.

He wasn't supposed to be in Munich.

He was supposed to be in Las Vegas.

Away from her.

Just like she wanted.

But he's here. He's real.

He never fucking listens.

 _And he's sorry._

" _Tonight_ ," he repeats.

Because he knows too that _tonight_ turns into _tomorrow_.

* * *

Eleanor studies his face. His face is impassive, and his expression is guarded. He's watching her, watch him. She steps back, and slowly walks around him. He doesn't move as she circles around like a vulture stalking it's prey. She half expects to find a gun- or something, _anything-_ sticking out of his back pocket, or the waistband of his jeans. Something that's going to force her into making a quick decision. Something that's going to give her some sort of indication that he's still a slimy Vegas crook, and that he's just the same old lying piece of thieving shit that was trying to get into her pants that he was before.

Instead, there is no gun. His back pocket bores the outline of his wallet, and the outline of his phone is visible in his front. She's sure there's a packet of cigarettes in there too, and she briefly wonders when he took up smoking. Or maybe he always had, she had no idea.

"Are you done inspecting my pockets? Do you want me to turn them out for you, too?"

"I'm just making sure that you're not armed."

"Maybe you should check around front. I think I'm packing _something-_ "

"Just when I thought your ego couldn't get any bigger, Jasper. _Honestly._ "

He smirked, but says nothing more.

She could still taste him on her lips. She could still feel him in her mouth. And she wanted him- _it-_ so badly. Jasper _was_ a good lover. The best one she's ever had, if she was going to be honest with herself. He learned quickly. Knew exactly where to touch her. He knew exactly what to say.

" _Tonight,"_ Eleanor breathes as she comes to a stop in front of him. "No more words. I'm done arguing with you, Jasper. _I'm done."_

"If that's what you want," he murmurs, taking a step toward her.

Eleanor nods, and moves her gaze away from his, and comes to a rest on the bedroom doors. He leads her back inside. Jasper's careful to close the door behind him, and locks it.

She turns to face him, half expecting him to still be leaning against the door. Of course he's not. He's already at her side, sliding his hands around her waist, pulling her to him. His lips descended onto hers, moving so easily against her own it's as if they never had that little argument in the first place. She reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck as his hands slide down over her ass, cupping and grabbing, briefly, until he lifts her up off of her feet, and tumbles toward her bed.

Jasper's never _not_ been fluid, and she finds it strangely refreshing. It makes him seem more human. He rolls onto his back and she climbs astride him, pushing his t-shirt up, desperate to get it off of him. Her palms move slowly up his torso, his stomach tightens under her touch.

He pulls it over his head, and leans forward and grabs her tank, and lifts it off of her for the second time that evening, and drops it over the side with his own.

He's slightly thinner than she remembers. He's always been lean with broad shoulders, but he seems to have lost some of his muscle mass. Just maybe, _maybe_ he's been just as stressed and alone as she has been for over these past several months.

Jasper grinds his hips up into her, and she can feel him through her jeans. He's thick and hard against the thin denim of her skinny jeans and she suddenly feels restricted. Eleanor presses her lips to his, once, twice, and pulls back and slides off of his lap. He raises his eyebrows, clearly questioning her motives, as she gracefully climbs off of the bed and slowly begins to remove her bottoms. His eyes don't leave hers as she slowly drags down the zipper, and shimmies them down her hips, and drops them to the floor with her knickers. She steps out, and he reaches forward, wrapping his hand around her wrist and roughly pulls her back into bed, and she willingly tumbles in with him.

Her fingers find the button on his jeans and she undoes it with ease, and boldly reaches in and grasps him. He's hard- gloriously hard- and silky as her hand moves expertly up and down. Her fingers trail over his head, and she can feel the slightest bit of pre-cum on her fingertips. Eleanor pulls her hand out and slowly, carefully lifts her fingers to her lips, not once breaking eye contact with him as her tongue darts out to taste.

She can hear his breath hitch in his throat. His eyes are unfocused as he watches her expertly swirl around her fingertips, tasting _him_ , on _her_.

A distant memory flashes in her mind's eye, and she can tell by his glazed expression that he's thinking of it too.

* * *

 _It's late. It's dark. She's horny as hell and she knows- knows- that her new bodyguard's got something packing under that ill-fitted, out of date grey suit. And she's damn well determined to find out what it is. He's got a devilishly handsome face, and he seems like he's got potential. He stutters a lot when he talks to her, and she finds it slightly annoying to the point where she almost tells him that he's only to speak when he's spoken to._

 _It doesn't matter, because he won't last._

 _They never do, and Jasper Frost is no different._

 _But then, she felt his breath hot on her ear when they were leaving the club. She felt his fingers splay a little too low on her back while he was leading her to the plane when they were leaving Paris._

 _And now she knows that he's faking all of it._

 _She's been with enough men- been around them her whole life- to know that someone's putting on a show. For her._

 _She's not as dumb as everyone thinks she is, not by a long shot. But it's easier to pretend because she's selfish, and she likes getting her way._

" _Where are you from again?" She asks rudely, looking out the window. She's drunk, horny, moody._

 _He tenses beside her. He didn't have to sit next to her on the plane. It's a bloody plane. It's her bloody plane, but alas, he's new and doesn't know any better._

" _I was raised in Dagenham, Your Highness."_

 _Ah. So he was poor._

" _Did you live on the estates?"_

 _Silence._

 _So he did. And he was embarrassed. She could tell because his breathing had quickened._

" _Your parents must be awfully proud of you for getting out."_

 _Still silence. Not that she'd know what that felt like, but it's nice to hear someone else talk about their happy, proud parents once in awhile. She finds it comforting to know that somewhere, somehow, these kinds of families actually exist and they're not just works of fiction to be seen from afar._

" _You know, Jasper, it's incredibly rude to ignore the Princess. Grounds for dismissal, in fact," she drawls, and finally turns to face him in her seat. Eleanor's taken off her knee high tights and shoes, and she's barefoot and curled up against the window- extremely unroyal and more drunk girl going home from the bar. Which she is, technically._

 _She's hungry, too. But not for food._

" _My apologies, Princess," he says tightly, staring straight ahead. "Yes. We lived in the estate housing until I moved out, and went to college."_

 _She drunk in the sight of him. It was almost a waste. He was so, so good looking. One of the best looking bodyguards she's ever had in recent memory._

 _Her dress had ridden up high on her thighs, and her midnight blue knickers were peaking out. She had long discarded her yellow jacket because she was warm. She didn't even know where it was now._

 _Her lips spread into a slow smirk. She was going to enjoy this. Enjoy him._

 _Jasper Frost was going to be gone by noon._

" _Jasper," she begins carefully, twirling the ends of her hair between her fingers._

" _Yes, Your Highness?"_

" _It's just us, and the pilots, on this plane, yes?"_

" _Yes, Your Highness," he repeats tightly. He's so, so nervous. She almost finds it endearing._

" _So there's nobody watching us?"_

" _No."_

" _Good. Do you remember what I told you last night? In the cellar?"_

 _He finally chances a glance at her, his expression is guarded. Her arm as somehow wound around the back of his seat and she's inched herself closer to him._

" _You told me to 'lighten up', Your Highness," he recalls, locking eyes with her._

" _I'm sure that Mr. Pryce has told you that you cannot defy a direct order from me?"_

" _Yes, Your Highness."_

" _And do you think you've done a good job? Of lightening up? Or do you think you need my help?"_

 _He swallows, his eyes searching hers. Begging for her to elaborate. She raises her eyebrows, and slowly leans forward and presses her mouth to his._

 _He's quick to respond. He's suddenly pushing her hair off of her shoulders and wraps his hands around her neck, pulling her in closer. He pulls her onto his lap, and slides his hands down her shoulders; her arms; her sides; and then her ass._

 _Her tongue is in his mouth and he tastes like the scotch he drank at the club, and something that's so entirely him. And she wants more. She has to find out how good he tastes. Has to._

 _Eleanor pulls back, and holds his soft face firmly in her hands. His chest is rising and falling rapidly, in perfect synchronisation with her own. She can feel him hardening against her through his soft cotton trousers, and the thin fabric of her panties._

 _She slides off of his lap, and stands over him as he slumps back in his seat. His lips are rosy from the force of their kisses, and his cheeks are flushed from his lack of breathing._

 _His lips part, and curl up into a smirk. He's finally showing some sort of confidence in her presence for the first time in the 72 hours that he's been assigned to her. Like he's confident that he's the first one to sleep with her so easily._

 _He's not the first, and he's not going to be the last, either. But she'll enjoy him for now because it feels like he's got a decent sized dick hidden away and it's convenient._

 _Eleanor takes a step forward, and reaches down and places her hand on his belt. She raises her eyes to his, and she responds with a smirk of her own when she sees that his clear blue eyes are darkening. They're hooded._

 _He wants her. Of course he does._

 _She would be worried if he didn't._

 _She seamlessly undoes his leather belt, and he slowly drags down his zipper, his eyes never once straying from hers as he bats her hand away so he can undo the button._

" _Get on your knees, Eleanor."_

 _His tone is hard and commanding, and it surprises her. He's never spoken to her that way before. Hell, he's never called her by her first name, either. Always 'Your Highness' this and 'Princess' that. It shoots straight between her legs and she'll humour him for now, because when they get home she's going to fuck him. And she'll be the one in control. She always is._

" _Now." He demands, slowly pulling his erection free from his black boxer briefs. She sees a hint of Calvin Klein on the waistband._

 _Jasper Frost isn't as indigent as he lets on, apparently. Even she knows that Calvin Klein knickers don't come cheap._

 _Her eyes lock in on him, in his hand. Through her alcohol and drug fuelled haze, she feels something shift. Something is different about this one. Something's different about him, and she can feel that it's going to set him apart from the others._

 _She drops to her knees between his long, open legs and slowly curls her hands around the length of him. Eleanor leans forward to wrap her lips around his head, her tongue purposefully darting out to lick the small bead of pre-cum that has leaked out as she locks eyes with him._

 _She'll deal with it in the morning._

* * *

A similar thought flashes through her mind again _._

Instead, this time, she's not on her knees before him.

It's him on his knees- _metaphorically-_ before her.

Eleanor slowly removes her finger from between her lips, not breaking his gaze.

Just like last time, _she'll deal with it in the morning._


	4. Blood

**A/N:** Thank you for all of your lovely reviews! I hadn't anticipated doing a lot of flashbacks when I first started this story, but as I kept going on it became apparent that they were necessary to tell the story _I'm_ telling because as a few people have pointed out in the reviews- there are many, many gaps in Jasper and Eleanor's relationship over a six month period- a whole evolution of feelings there that we didn't get to see and I'd like to play with that for a bit, so here we are! This chapter is long, and a lot of talk- but I think we all need a second to gather ourselves from the first few chapters, aye?

No one's picked up on it yet, but each chapter title is a song by a band called _The Editors_. I was listening to _Salvation_ (chapter 2) and that's where the idea for this whole story came from. Their song 'No Harm' was featured in the S2 finale. I _really_ recommend listening to them. I've followed them for years and I was so happy to see that they were picked for the show's soundtrack.

* * *

 **Chapter 4: Blood**

* * *

The harsh morning light streaming in against her face has become too much. All she can see is red behind her eyelids, and she's had enough of it. Eleanor rolls away to face the other way. Instead of burying her face into the overstuffed hotel pillow like she intends to, her head collides with something hard.

"What the f _uck?_ " he groans, and the arm that's around her waist flies up to rub the pectoral she's just rammed her face into.

Eleanor's eyes snap open as she pulls back, drawing the white sheets up over her chest as she struggles to sit up. The sight before her is painstakingly familiar.

Too familiar.

Dangerously familiar.

He coughs, clearing his throat, and he stretches. The white sheet rides down low on his narrow hips, and it takes everything she's got to not follow it with her eyes, because she knows the second he realises that she's checking him out, he won't let her live it down.

She swallows, and then meets his gaze as he rubs the sleep out of his eyes.

Jasper's expression is careful.

It's _morning_.

"Breakfast?" He asks gruffly, rolling onto his side and reaches for the room service menu on the nightstand. "I'm _starving_. I _need_ some fuckin' coffee."

"Yes," she responds quietly, and slumps back into the pillows. "Tea, please."

"And to eat?" He doesn't look up from the menu.

"Jasper, you _know_ I don't eat breakfast."

"It's the most _important_ meal of the day, Eleanor."

She huffs, and opens her mouth to reply, but is cut off by the sound of her phone ringing loudly in the front room. Frowning, she slowly slides out of the bed, grabs a nearby white robe and pulls it on, and storms out of the bedroom. Her phone is sitting on the sofa, just where she had dropped it the previous night when she had been hell bent on calling her mother.

Her Skype is ringing through, and she groans loudly. _Skype_ means that it's something more than a conference call with one person. Skype means _video_. And if video is involved, it's never good.

Eleanor pulls her messy hair over her shoulder, and out of her face. She didn't wash her make-up off, and she's sure she looks a fright. She quickly unlocks her phone, and answers the call.

Sure enough, her mother, Liam, Robert, and Rachel are all sitting around the end of the breakfast table.

"To what do I owe this _pleasure_?" She says dryly as she settles herself down on the sofa, and draws her legs up underneath of her so she's more comfortable to face the Spanish Inquisition before her.

"Well good morning, _Eleanor_ ," Robert says in a sickly sweet voice as he reaches across the table and pulls the computer closer to them so she can see his face. His handsome features are torn between amused, and annoyance.

Across the room, the bedroom doors silently open and Jasper leans against the frame, dressed in nothing but his discarded boxer briefs, and crosses his arms. His expression is amused as he watches her.

She scowls up at him.

"What's crawled up your ass?" Liam interjects, drawing her attention back to them. Jasper smiles wider.

" _You_ ," she says rudely, not missing a beat. "What's all this? Did someone _die_?"

"It's been nearly two months, Eleanor," Robert cuts in before she can start mouthing off at each and every one of them. "I think it's high time you came back home. All that German beer. _Snitzel_. Angela Merkel's awful hair. People are going to start to think that you've got your eye on some old German nobility. _Someone von Douche_. The tabs are picking up that you've been hanging about in Munich. Paps saw you slinking back into your hotel last night with some tall lad-"

" _WHAT_?!" She finally realises that there's papers on the table. Her eyes narrow and the excuses start flying from her before she can control herself. "No. It was nothing. He's already gone. Nothing happened. I thought it might, but it didn't feel right so I told him to go."

Jasper arches an eyebrow. He knows damn well that _something_ happened last night. _Something_ happened four times, in fact.

"I've spoken to Hassan, and he said that you said you weren't feeling well last night. Now, Lenny, Hassan's got a girlfriend, and he hasn't seen her in some time. Let the man bust his nut, for christ sakes."

"Robbie!" She scoffs, throwing her head back out of sheer annoyance for her older brother. " _Fine_. I'll come home in a couple of days. _Ugh_."

"I've added some things to your schedule, Your Highness. For tomorrow, actually. There's a new fashion house opening in Soho that's being run by women recovering from crisis. We think it'll be a great opportunity for you to transition back into your obligations."

"Mr. Hill's already called transport, the plane will be ready in three hours. It's a two hour flight," Helena says carefully, folding her arms on the table as she stares down at the papers in front of her with a cautious expression on her face. "Your brother is right, darling. You can't keep running from this. We've worked too hard to get this monarchy back on track. You've made such good progress over these past few months and I'm _not_ going to let you throw it away, Eleanor. _The Daily Mail_ hasn't called you a _Rogue Royal_ in four months. That's a new record."

Her eyes look up to meet his. They were supposed to talk. They were supposed to have a long, overdue, painful conversation. Then have several rounds of sex. He was going to follow her back to London on a commercial flight. She was going to sneak out to see him. She had it all planned out.

And it would be just like her mother to ruin everything. Whether she knew it, or not.

"What do you keep looking at? Is he still there?" Helena demands when she realises that there's something- _someone_ \- in the room that keeps grabbing her daughter's attention.

" _Zimmerservice_!" Jasper calls out in an surprisingly good German accent as he turns around and heads back into her bedroom. _What is it with him and accents?_

"My breakfast is here. I'll see you tonight. _All_ of you," her tone is cool as ice as she focuses her eyes specifically on Robert, and then disconnects the call. Eleanor throws her phone back down and runs her hands through her hair, groaning loudly. She slowly opens her eyes to see Jasper slowly walking back toward her, wearing an identical robe.

"You're leaving." He states.

"Yes, _King's_ orders."

"He seems nice," he comments. "He looks much more like you than Liam does."

"Liam looks like our dad," she mutters. "Robbie and I unfortunately look like mum."

"Does he know about me?"

She hesitates. He notices.

"He knows what he needs to know," she says finally.

"And what, _pray tell,_ does the _King of England_ need to know?"

"That you're the reason that Ted's in jail. That you're the one who found out that Ted was the one that stabbed our father."

"And he doesn't know _why_ I left?"

"He knows that your services were no longer required by the Crown."

"So he doesn't know about _us_ , is what you're telling me," he says firmly as he sits beside her, and drapes his arm across the back of the sofa.

"Jasper," she sighs, closing her eyes again. His hand cautiously rests on her shoulder. She doesn't flinch away.

He's trying.

Because he wants _her_.

"He'd kill you for what you've done."

"Liam didn't," he reminds her.

"That's because _Liam_ doesn't know that you blackmailed me for six months. _Liam_ just thinks that you tried to rob us. _Robbie_ is different. _Robbie_ wouldn't hesitate to chop off your dick for what you've done to _me_."

"You wouldn't let him cut off my dick. You like it too much."

Eleanor scoffs again, and rises to her feet. "I'm going to shower, since I have to leave in a few hours."

"Do you want me to join you, Princess?" He asks softly. "We have a lot to discuss. And to be quite honest, we _do_ have to talk. _Sometimes_."

"Fine," she sighs, beckoning him to follow her. "Are you staying in Munich?"

"Do you want me to come back?"

"You can't come on the jet, Jasper. My mother would have an aneurysm. _Robert_ would have an aneurysm."

" _Robert_ would love me."

Even now, she finds his confidence infuriating. She offers no reply as she drops her robe without another word, and leaves it in the middle of the bedroom floor as she walks into the adjacent lavatory. She catches her face in the mirror, and she _does_ look a fright. By her standards, anyway. Eleanor rounds back to her make up bag and reaches in and withdraws a packet of face wipes, and cleans her visage. Jasper works around her, shedding his robe, and turning on the shower to an acceptable temperature before taking off his boxers and getting in.

She can't recall a time she's ever felt so _domestic._ She's never showered with him. Showering together was something that was reserved for _boyfriend_ privileges, and she had always made a point to make sure to him, at least, that he _definitely_ did not have them. Showering was intimate. She'd have to look at him. And sometimes, she found him so bright and endearing that it hurt her to look at _because_ of what he had done to her. What he _was_ doing to her.

Satisfied with her face, she turns and slowly opens the glass door and steps inside. He's standing under the overhead rainfall with his back to her, washing the last bits of soap from his hair. Eleanor closes the door, and he turns to face her.

"I was convinced that you were going to try and take off," he admits.

"Jasper," she sighs, looking up at him. "This is _my_ room. I would have kicked you out. And don't you think for a second that the thought didn't cross my mind."

"I would be worried if it didn't," he murmurs, handing her her shampoo. "You didn't answer me earlier."

She turns away, brows furrowed, as she squirts some of the liquid into the palm of her hand and slowly works it into her hair. He doesn't elaborate, but she knows what question in particular he's referring to. _Did_ _she want him to follow her back?_

Was she ready to finally begin a _real_ relationship with Jasper Frost? Did she even want one?

"Eleanor," he says softly, resting hand on the wall beside her head. He stands in front of her, effectively stopping the stream of warm water from hitting her front. "There isn't a goddamn thing in Las Vegas that I want."

She looks up and meets his steely gaze. He's purposefully stonewalling her. There's something strangely raw about it in this moment; because there's literally nowhere for her to go from here. She's naked. He's naked. She can't hide, and neither can he.

She can banter back and forth with him about it all she wants, but deep down, she _knows_. She knows why he's still in Europe. She heard him last night when he said he wanted to come _home_ and make it up to her. Jasper Frost has never had to make up for anything in his life, and she wonders if he even knows how. He doesn't seem boyfriend-y. Certainly not the type that she'd want to take home to her mother, for multiple reasons, and the fact that he's so goddamn shifty is at the bottom of the list.

"Yes," she chokes out, and reaches up for him. "You can come back. But you _cannot_ come near the palace, do you understand me?"

"I'm well aware," he murmurs lowering his head down to hers. "I still have my flat. It's in _Shoreditch._ "

Eleanor rolls her eyes at the memory. One of their first arguments had been about her sleeping with others, specifically gold medal winning Olympic swimmers, while sleeping with _him_. Jasper hadn't been too keen on sharing her body with the rest of the Commonwealth.

But then his lips are on hers, and she's done. He's pushing her up against the shower wall, and he's hard. _Again_. As if they didn't have sex four times last night.

" _Jesus_ , Jasper," she groans between kisses. He grabs her upper thigh, pulling it up to wrap around his waist.

"Do you know how long it's been for me?" He says hoarsely. His fingers pinch her clit, and she involuntarily jerks against him, and he grinds himself into her. He slides his hand lower, expertly working her into a frenzy. She grabs hold of his shoulder with one hand, gripping him tightly so she doesn't slip and fall. "I haven't slept with _anyone else_ -"

 _Hold up_.

 _Hold._

 _The._

 _Fuck._

 _Up._

She pushes on him then, and his fingers roughly slip out of her and he stumbles back into the glass wall.

"You slept with my mother, you jackass!" She shouts over the sound of pounding water hitting the sides of their enclosure.

"Eleanor this isn't the type of conversation we should be having in _here."_

" _Did you, or did you not have sex with my mother, Jasper?"_ She says through gritted teeth.

Eleanor folds her arms across her chest, giving him one less thing to look at. His expression is both pained and strained as he pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger.

"I didn't have- _Jesus Christ, Eleanor_ \- I didn't-" he tumbles over his words, and she knows damn well that this is the last conversation he'd rather be having with _her_ right now. Especially standing in the nude, and in her shower. Hell, less than two minutes ago he was about to shag her. _Again_.

She doesn't want to have it. She doesn't want to acknowledge it, but if he's being slippery with words, she needs to know why.

Jasper is deflating before her eyes.

"Spit it out," Eleanor threatens. "Spit it out right this second, or I'm leaving. You're not doing this to me again, Jasper. _You're not._ "

"I-I _just_ ate her out, alright? I fingered your mum, and ate her out until she goddamn _came_ and that's _it_. I didn't fuck your mother. I swear on everything I own that I didn't sleep with her _that_ way!" He says loudly, turning away from her. She can tell he's getting angry because his hands have bunched into fists at his sides. They're surrounded by glass, and he'd do well not to punch anything.

It hurts to hear, and she feels dirty even thinking about, but now she _knows_. It it's own twisted way, it brings her some level of comfort knowing that it's just _her_ vagina his dick has been in.

" _Now,_ will you bloody well drop it?" He seethes, turning away from her. Jasper rests his arm against the tiled wall and puts his forehead in the crook of his arm as he attempts to control his breathing because now isn't the time to be losing his shit at her.

"Well, I hope you didn't fucking kiss me after your lips touched _that_ ," she says haughtily, and reaches for her conditioner.

"You took off to Monaco," he barks back from behind her. She can tell he's still irritated with her. For a number of reasons, she's sure. With the fact that this encounter clearly is not going the way he wanted being high on the list. "Without me. Without your _security detail_ -"

"-Marcus was there," she says quickly. Eleanor knows where _this_ is heading. What he's got over her head.

These events may have occurred months ago, but they never discussed what happened. He lost his job when she had him arrested, and he wasn't invited back to the palace after the charges were dropped because Cyrus had removed their security details. Jasper requested a transfer after what had happened at the Masquerade.

And because nothing divine has ever smiled down on him, he was 'assigned' to her goddamn mother.

"Don't act like you were the patron saint of monogamy. Don't think I don't know about _Beck_ , Eleanor."

" _Beck_ was still married. I didn't sleep with him. I mean, I slept in the same bed as him, but _nothing_ happened," she swore, working the conditioner into her long hair. She still refuses to turn to look at him. Not yet, anyway. "Beck is Robert's best friend, Jasper. He's always going to be around."

"So you're implying that you're going to let me back in the palace, and I'll be _around_?" She can practically hear the bloody smirk in his tone. The conditioner's long been washed out of her hair, and she's just standing there, letting the warm water rain over her body. She can feel him behind her. He's clearly gotten over whatever mood he worked himself up into moments before.

"I'm not implying that at all, Jasper," she responds tightly as his arm slowly snakes around her waist, and pulls her flush up against his front. She can feel all of him. _Every. Hard. Inch_.

"Sure sounded like it to me, _Your Highness_ ," he murmurs in her ear, and her breath hitches in her throat. His fingers slowly move down her stomach, and then her abdomen, only to hover _just_ over where she wants him to touch her the most. "We're running out of time. You need to pack. So, are you done instigating me, or are we going for round five before you get on your jet?"

"Shut up, Jasper," she mutters, and pulls out of his embrace and turns around.

Just as she suspected, there's a small smirk playing on his thin lips as the water rains down over his face; naturally, he doesn't seem the least bit bothered by it. His eyes sparkle as he takes in her scowl, and then his gaze moves lower, taking in the sight of her wet, naked body.

"Not subtle, are you?" She continues, reaching for his arm. She backs up to the built in bench on the other side of the stall, pulling him along with her.

"Nope," he agrees. He spins her around, and quickly sits down on the stone seat, raising his eyebrows to her as he makes himself comfortable.

* * *

True to form, Hassan and Colin are knocking on her door within the hour, advising her that there will be a car ready to pick her, and her belongings, up in half an hour to bring her to the Munich Airport, where the royal jet is waiting on standby.

She'll be forced to face the reality she's been running from for the past two months in a matter of hours. And she'll be doing it alone, just like they wanted.

Eleanor's been nothing short of a perfect princess from the second they left the stadium eight months ago. She's done whatever was asked of her without fuss, and held screaming babies without making a face. And when her prayers were answered and her eldest brother was found alive, she vowed on her father's grave that she wouldn't fuck this up for Robert.

She gives Jasper her new mobile number, and advises him to text her when he's back on British soil, and they'll figure it out from there. She's stubborn on her stance about not letting him back in the palace, and she knows that he's smart enough not to push his luck with her on this, because she herself doesn't even know what's happening.

Five rounds of sex and a lot of kissing doesn't mean a thing.

Well it does, _technically._ It would to _normal_ people, in a _normal_ situation _._ But Eleanor's not ready to admit that to herself just yet. Jasper's just been a momentary lapse of judgement. And now that she's doing better, she may or may not be entertaining the notion of forgiving him for his past intentions. And besides, she is not normal. And Jasper Frost is even further from it, too.

So now she sits alone on the very plane she blew him on in the dead of night almost a year and a half ago, with the same memory floating through her mind, muddled in with all the others from the previous night.

She wasn't hoping he was chasing her.

She _knew_ he had been. Jasper never leaves a trail. So much so to the point where she may or may not have used her mother's Military Intelligence credentials to confirm that his passport never reentered the United States of America. She _knew_ he was still bloody in Europe. Somewhere, somehow.

And she was going to suss him out eventually. And the last place she honestly expected him to turn up was at something so _normal_ like a concert.

Eleanor sighs, and draws her attention away from the window to look at Hassan, who's sitting across from her, scrolling through his mobile and balancing a cup of tea on his knee.

"I'm sorry Hassan," she says finally. He looks up, startled.

"What the bloody hell for?" He blurts out, without thinking. His eyes widen as he realises that it's not the stewardess talking to him. It's the Princess. But he relaxes when he sees that she's not the least bit offended. Rather, she looks rather proud that he's _finally_ dropped the stiff bodyguard act with her.

"I didn't know you had a girlfriend," she says quietly. "I feel awful for dragging you around. It didn't occur to me-"

"Oh, she met me in Zagreb, and in Amsterdam; don't you worry your pretty little head," he smirks. Clearly he's got some salacious memory rolling in his mind and she scrunches her face up in disgust at the thought.

"And here I thought I was being nice by apologising," she quips. " _Never you mind_."

Hassan snorts. "Oh, can't wait to tell Colin that you apologised. He's not going to believe it."

"Colin has no life, and is salivating for the day that he gets transferred out of Royal Security and into a more James Bond type role."

"He does adore you," he says. "He thinks very highly of you, you know."

Eleanor smiles. "He's a good man. Shame he sleeps so much. I suppose he took advantage of the free night last night and blew off some steam." Her eyes flit across the row to the man in question, whose six foot three frame is sprawled across a row of seats, fast asleep with his beanie drawn down over his eyes, his headphones secured in his ears.

Her mother would never allow such a thing. She would be less than impressed that the _help_ felt so comfortable around her to the point where they could shirk on their duties and take a quick kip on the flight home from Germany.

It's that reason, among many, that she allows it.

"Speaking of things," Hassan begins carefully, setting his cup in the holder on the arm of his chair.

"We needed to talk," she sighs, but doesn't elaborate. They did a great deal of other things than talk, unfortunately. The surface had barely been scratched and she needed to learn to keep her hands off of him, and vice versa.

It wasn't her fault that _he_ was a damn good lay.

She was almost touched that he hadn't slept with anyone in their time apart, because she was sure as hell for a _very_ long time that he wouldn't be putting his thieving mitts on her body ever again. Others may see it as a romantic gesture. But she knows better. She knows him, and what he's like. For someone who comes from a situation that could quite possibly be just as fucked up as hers, he's got an awful lot of confidence in himself.

Jasper Frost has had that little bit of commitment filed away from the moment he realised that she knew about the tryst with the Queen. No, he hadn't stayed celibate because he was devoted to her. It was because he goddamn knew she wouldn't be. The devotion to her may or may not have played a minute detail. But Eleanor's not always honest with herself when it comes to matters concerning Jasper Frost.

"Colin thinks he's just some old lay of yours," he says quietly.

"And I hope you kept that assumption going," she says, turning back to the window. "I don't know what shite you've heard about me, Hassan, and frankly, I don't care. But where _he's_ concerned- he isn't allowed in the Palace. I made that very clear last night. When we get home I'm going to need _you_ to offer me some leniency. Do you understand what I'm saying?"

Hassan is silent for several minutes, to the point where Eleanor has to turn away from the window to look at him. He's staring at her with an odd look on his face, as if he's unsure he should say what he's going to say. "I know who _he_ is, Princess. and what he was to you. Hill told me what happened because he knew that _he_ was still in Europe, and the opportunity might present itself for a reunion, whether you wanted it or not. When I held him back, he all but told me he was going to murder me if that's what it took to get to you. And not in the psycho 'I'm going to kidnap her for ransom way', but in the 'that's the love of my life kind of way'."

"He always did have a way with words," she whispers finally. Her expression is careful and neutral, because there are other people on the plane and she knows that they talk. The last thing she wants is something getting back to her family. She's not ready.

"So, when we get home, as long as you turn your GPS on on your phone before you leave the Palace, I'll look the other way if you happen to go down to the tunnels for some fresh air after hours."

Eleanor's eyes turn to Colin, who's finally stirring from his nap because the plane's about to go into a descent at Heathrow. He pulls his cap off and tries to straighten his mussed up auburn hair, but catches her looking at him, and grins.

" _Knew_ you had a thing for gingers."

"I was just saying that _Hassan_ is my favourite bodyguard. And you just cemented that with your little comment, O'Regan. _Honestly_. Like I would even-"

"Fasten your seatbelts, we'll be landing in fifteen," the pilot calls over the loudspeaker, effectively shutting her up in the process. Colin's perfect grin only intensifies as she crosses her arms and slumps back into her seat to buckle her seatbelt.


	5. Bird of Prey

**Chapter 5: Bird of Prey**

* * *

 _A loud banging on her door rouses her from her sleep. Eleanor reaches around in her sheets for her mobile so she can confirm that it is indeed an ungodly hour, and she hasn't just overslept. It's shortly after five a.m. She's gotten into a habit of locking her doors at night; she's got no reason to, no one ever bothers her when she goes to bed. But ever since the incident at Wembley Stadium, she's been on edge._

 _So, she locks her doors at night as a result._

" _I'm coming! Don't get your knickers in a twist!" She hollers tiredly, forcing herself out of bed and bolts across the room. She undoes the lock, and pulls it open to see James standing before her. He looks tired, and slightly stressed. And that worries her, because James Hill is never stressed._

" _Is everything alright? James, it's so early-"_

" _You need to get dressed, Princess. There's been an incident, and we need to escort you, your brother, and your mother out of the palace."_

" _Incident? What kind of incident?" She says worriedly, and backs into her room. She finds a discarded sweater and leggings and quickly pulls them on over the camisole and shorts she had been sleeping in._

" _You'll be briefed when you're with your family, Your Highness."_

" _James, you're scaring me," she states, and grabs her phone off of the bed. "Do I need decent shoes?"_

"No, but yo _u will be leaving the palace, Princess."_

 _She slips on a pair of black flats that are sticking out from underneath her vanity and straightens up. Hill escorts her from her room, and to the front of the palace. Her mother is already there, dressed in a pair of cotton trousers and simple white jumper, her expression both careful and cautious. The Queen has evidently been given more time to make herself presentable._

" _Where the hell is Liam?"_

" _Right behind you. What's going on?"_

" _You're being escorted to Frimley Park Hospital, in Surrey," James announces as he and Hassan push open the front doors. Hassan's clearly just as ignorant in all of this as they are._

" _Surrey? The hell for?" She demands, following Liam down the staircase. He's got a new detail called Mitchum, but he's not with them. A black SUV sits running, parked in front of the doors._

 _James doesn't answer her as he opens the car door and steps aside._

 _Eleanor's wedged in the last row of the Lincoln next to Liam, who's staring out the window. James and Hassan clearly aren't giving anything up to any of them any time soon, and Helena's strangely quiet given the intensity of the situation._

 _It's then that Eleanor realises that she knows what's going on._

" _Mum," she says finally, breaking the silence in the car._

" _Yes, Eleanor?"_

" _Is Cyrus dying? Because if that's the case, I want to go home and go back to bed."_

" _Cyrus isn't dying, darling. Not yet, at least."_

" _Frimley Park's one of the five hospitals that hosts a Ministry of Defense Hospital Unit. It's the closest one to London," Liam murmurs finally as he rests his head against the tinted window, but his eyes aren't taking anything in outside. There's a look on his face that's a cross between denial and torture. "No one in our family is an active service member. Not anymore. None of this is making sense, Mum. You need to tell Lenny and I what's going on, right now."_

" _A short while ago, shortly after midnight- we received a call from an outpost in Wales," James begins before Helena can reply. "A patrol craft was doing routine checkups on some small islands up north. Around the area where your brother's jet was brought down."_

 _No. No. No._

 _There was no way._

 _Eleanor grabs Liam's hand and holds it because she doesn't know what else to do._

 _Liam's holding onto her just as as tightly. If James is saying what she thinks he's saying- then everything is going to change._

 _Everything._

" _Mum-" her voice is strangled. Tears are welling up in her eyes. Helena turns to them then, and her expression mimics her own, right down to the trembling bottom lip._

" _He's alive, Eleanor. They did a blood test, and there was a genetic match. Robert's alive."_

 _Her tears spill over then. Liam wraps his arm over her shoulders and she cries into his chest, as a harsh sob escapes from between her lips. She can feel the tears of her twin seeping into the hair on the top of her head. Liam's shaking, slightly._

" _Is he alright? Is he awake?" Liam demands as he pulls away from her. She falls forward onto her knees and wraps her arms around the back of her neck in an attempt to control her breathing, and to avoid a panic attack._

 _Robert's alive._

 _Cyrus isn't a legitimate King._

" _They were running some tests and that was the last I heard. The doctors are going to give us an update on your brother's condition when we arrive."_

 _Eleanor sits up, wipes her face, and nods._

 _Robert is alive._

* * *

 _An hour later, they're led into the hospital through a back entrance and led up a service corridor. All the while being instructed to keep their heads down, and not to talk to anyone. She's clinging to Liam because she's scared that the second she lets go, she's going to wake up and it's going to be nothing but another awful dream._

 _There are military guards all over the ward, and they're all watching each other with careful expressions, waiting for someone to give something up. Eleanor hasn't seen this many service men in one place since the London Bombings in 2007, and they were placed under lockdown in the Palace for days on end._

 _Neither are budging._

 _They're led down a smaller, more secluded corridor and there's a room at the very end with blacked out windows and two more soldiers - these ones are armed- are standing outside it. And she knows that this is it. That he's inside._

 _She needs to see him. To apologize for not calling because it's been a weight she's been carrying on her shoulders for nearly two years now._

 _Eleanor releases the vice-like grip she's got on Liam, pushes past her mother, and is tearing off down the hall before anyone can object._

 _No one gets it. No one gets that she had a different relationship with Robbie. Stronger than the one she's got with Liam, and she shared a womb with him for nine months. Regardless, it's not the same._

" _Move!" She shouts hoarsely. "Get out of my bloody way!"_

 _And they listen because they can't ignore a direct order from the Princess. Eleanor crashes into the door with a loud thud, and her hands slip on the door handle as she struggles to open it. She needs to be the first one in. She has to be._

 _Finally it gives, and she ungracefully tumbles into the dimly lit hospital room._

" _Lenny? Lenny, is that you?" It's his voice._

 _She stands in the threshold, chest heaving, staring at the man in the bed. He's got an IV in his arm, and he's dangerously thin with a shitty beard._

" _I'm so sorry," she cries out before she can stop herself. The tears are streaming down her face once more as she slowly makes her way to him. "Robbie, I'm so sorry- I said I'd call, and I didn't. I went to Paris-"_

" _Lenny," he says tiredly, effectively cutting her off. "It's alright. I'm alright."_

 _She sits on the edge of his bed and takes his bony hand in both of hers as the door bangs open again and Liam and Helena enter. Liam's supporting their mother as a small cry escapes her as she sees her first born son with renewed devotion._

 _Eleanor grips his hand once more, and moves so her mother can sit with him._

" _You've seen better days, yeah?" Liam says shakily. As if he too, can't believe that this moment is real. That it's actually happening._

" _Yeah," he agrees tiredly, smiling slightly as Helena wraps him into a careful hug, and presses her lips to the side of his head. His dark hair is embarrassingly long. Too long for a man who doesn't know that he's Prince Regent. Too long for someone who is going to find out that he's going to be crowned King in a matter of days to end his tyrannical uncle's false reign._

" _I need some air, I'll be right back," Eleanor says finally, gripping her mobile in the interior pocket of her sweater._

" _Of course," Helena murmurs. Eleanor smiles weakly, and slips out of the room. She saw a small terrace on her way up and she quickly makes her way to it._

 _Once she's outside, and she's sure she's alone, she pulls out her mobile. She wants to be the one to tell him._

 _If Robert is alive, then maybe miracles can happen._

 _Eleanor scrolls through her contacts until she finds his name, nestled in with the other 'F''s she's got in there._

 _She takes a deep breath, and presses his mobile number and lifts the phone to her ear. It's shortly after eight in the morning._

 _It rings._

 _And rings and-_

" _The Vodafone customer you are trying to reach is out of the service area, or has been disconnected," a polite, disembodied female voice tells her. "If you feel you have reached this message in error, please check the number and dial again."_

* * *

The car pulls up in front of the palace, and just like she had suspected, no one is there to greet her. Because while she may be coming home from an extended vacation, the monarchy still exists and has been going on without her. Sighing, she exits the car and tells Hassan and Colin to bugger off because she isn't going anywhere for the rest of the day. She's tired and wants to take a nap.

"Sorry, I didn't know there was a tour going on today, I'll just get out of your way." Robert calls as she rounds the corner.

"Very funny, Robbie," she says, smiling as he rises from his desk to greet her. He pulls her into his arms and holds her tightly. He's put some more muscle back on in her absence, and his hugs feel more like his own once again. "Did you have a good trip?"

"Yes. It was needed."

He holds her at arm's length, and takes in her appearance through his identical green eyes. "You're glowing, Lenny." He observes. Robert can't recall the last time he's seen her so at ease. If ever.

His sister's one of the most high strung people he knows. She won't deny it, either.

"All of that German beer," she laughs, meeting his gaze.

"Oh, piss off," he rolls his eyes and releases her. "Did you bring me any back, at least?"

"Of course not," she replies, dropping down into the seat across from him. "Not with the whole inquisitorial squad breathing down my neck this morning to get my ass back here. There wasn't any time."

"Suppose I'll have to go myself then."

"What business does the King of England have in Germany?"

"Liquor. _Whores_. The usual."

"Churchill is rolling in his grave, and it's all your fault."

"I'm quite confident that the man hates the Germans as much as I do."

"Robbie, _you_ only hate the German football team because they creamed our arses at the last _FIFA_ , and you got to watch," she reminds him as a maid places a tray of tea in front of them. "Besides, I wouldn't go broadcasting that around, anyway. God only knows the wrong person will hear that you hate the Germans and the next thing you know we have an international incident on our hands, and we have to have a bloody banquet as an apology."

"Too right you are, dear sister. Just taking the piss, is all. Now, tell me _all_ about your trip," he smirks, waving the maid off and leans back in his seat.

There's a look in his eye that she doesn't quite trust. And she briefly wonders if he knows more than what he's letting on. She's going to have to do some research later to see if she _had_ actually been photographed with Jasper the previous night.

It was less than twenty four hours ago, but it seems like a lifetime away.

And she tells him everything, down to the last detail, excluding her late night rendezvous with her former bodyguard.

She hates lying to Robert, but she has to. Right now, anyway. Not until she's sure that everything's been righted with Jasper Frost.

Robert isn't as lenient as Liam.

Jasper isn't some man she's bringing home for a few days. They're long past that. Because she knows the second she consents to letting him back in the palace, he isn't going to leave.

* * *

It's been six weeks since she last slept in her own bed, and it's glorifying when she finally collapses into it later that night. Her phone has been eerily silent all evening.

She tells herself that he likely had some loose ends to tie up. That commercial fights aren't as convenient as having a royal jet all to yourself, at your beck and call. Not that she'd know, she's never flown on a commercial airplane before.

Every excuse to deter her mind from the fact that maybe, he's changed his mind.

But then her phone buzzes as she's browsing through some musician's Twitter feed. An unknown, British number pops up with a London area code.

"Hello?" She answers carefully.

"I've just picked up a car from Heathrow, can you get out?" He clips, and his tone is all business. No greeting. No 'how was your flight.' Straight to the point. Typical.

"I'm sorry, who is this?" She clips right back, stretching out amongst her pillows.

"I have a black Vauxhall Insignia. Take the south tunnel exit to Green Park, and I'll meet you at the Green Park tube station."

"You're asking me to go to a _tube station_ in the middle of the night? Is your brain fucked from the altitude?"

" _Eleanor_."

"I'll be there in fifteen," she sighs, and disconnects the call without another word. Casting a wary eye to the door, she carefully slips out of bed, and pulls on a black leather jacket and pulls a ball cap on over her mussed up hair.

She slowly pulls open her door, and sure breaths a sigh of relief when she finds the corridor vacant. She takes six steps, and then presses on the hidden entrance in the wall and heads down to the tunnels.

True to her word, she beelined for the tube station in question. It's right next to the Ritz, and she can't see his car anywhere along the side of the road as she emerges from the park. There's a few people about, but not many. No one matching his profile, at least. Eleanor holds her bag a little tighter to her chest and sits down on one of the benches in front of the station, and draws out her mobile.

She's right on time.

He isn't, and that worries her ever so slightly.

Her sheltered life has given her an edge of worry about being outside the palace, in public, alone, late at night. It's not that this part of town is shifty, because it's far from it. It's the fact that someone could recognise her and then she'd be in shit for sneaking out, unprotected.

And then a set of bright lights comes around the corner, and she breathes a sigh of relief and is quickly back on her feet as he comes to a rolling stop in front of her. The windows are tinted black and she can't see in, but she knows it's _him_. She walks around the front of the car and peers in, and sure enough. He's dressed in a dark blue jacket and has a black ball cap on his head, keeping his face shadowed because he knows there's cameras in the area and the last thing either of them want is to be sighted together.

Eleanor wordlessly opens the door and slides inside and he's pulling away from the curb before she even has a chance situate herself. The backseat is stuffed full of his luggage, and she realizes then that he hadn't been lying when he told her that he was living out of suitcases since he left England. He'd just been bouncing around temporary housing all over the continent, because he didn't want to go back to Nevada.

Las Vegas isn't his home. Not anymore.

He doesn't say anything, and she doesn't want him too. Instead he pulls onto Fleet Street. She's not sure what destination he's got in his mind and she can't stay out all night because she's got a schedule to keep for tomorrow. Regardless, she's been travelling all day and catching up with various family members. If she can see him for a few moments, she'll take it.

"How was your flight?" she asks finally.

"Uneventful," he answers, his eyes never straying from the road.

They fall back into silence.

"I'm sure your family is glad you're home," he comments.

"Something to that effect," she says softly, turning to look at him in her seat. He doesn't return her gaze, but instead he reaches across and grips her upper thigh tightly. It's a small, intimate gesture, but it's one he's never done before. It's affectionate. And Jasper isn't one to show emotion openly, so she'll do well not to say anything.

"I know you don't have much time. But I'm starved, there's a diner my near flat that's open twenty four hours."

"That's fine, I didn't eat much at dinner," she replies, and rests her hand on top of his, gently curling her fingertips underneath the side of his hand.

She can make small gestures, too.

Twenty minutes later he pulls up outside a small, underground diner emblazoned with a bright, neon " _OPEN 24/7_ " sign hanging in one of the windows. Jasper knows that she's likely never set foot in an establishment like this before, and frankly he doesn't care because he knows that _she_ doesn't care. While her mother may have tried to instil a superiority complex in her children, she was unsuccessful in many aspects.

Jasper seamlessly parallel parks the car out front, and they both get out. He joins her on the sidewalk, and immediately places his hand in the small of her back, stalling her from entering right away. And lifts her cap slightly so he can see her face.

"You look tired."

" _Someone_ kept me up all night," she says, and tilts her head up, intending to kiss him. He pecks her once, twice, three times before pulling back, and leads her down the narrow stone steps. There's a few people inside, but they pay them no mind. Jasper leads her to a secluded booth in the back, and makes her sit with her back facing the rest of the restaurant. He doesn't voice his reasoning, but she understands why.

She's less likely to be recognized that way.

A young waitress, no older than herself, struts over and places two menus in front of them and takes their drink orders without looking at either of them before heading back to the counter to pour them two beers and check whether she was doing on her mobile.

"Did you look at the papers?" She asks as she scans the menu. It's a whole lot of deep fried she never eats, and she finds it slightly daunting.

"I'm not worried," he says quietly. "Is _this_ alright?"

"I've never eaten a majority of _this_. But there's a first time for everything, right?"

A ghost of a smile crosses his lips, but he doesn't press her further.

She surrenders to a chicken caesar salad wrap and chips, and he orders some sort of burger that sounds like it has more than two animals involved in the mix. It takes everything she's got not to turn up her nose at the thought.

 _Americans._

"Hassan knows who you are," she begins, taking a drink of her beer. "James filled him in because _you_ didn't go back to America like you were expected to. He is the lesser of the two evils, and Colin's being transferred back to MI5 soon."

"Is that so?" He studies her face. "He seems like his intentions are good."

"They are," she agrees. "I'm not sure where James found him, but he is a good replacement."

"And Liam?"

"His name is Mitch. Seems nice, I haven't spent a lot of time with him. He lets Liam do what he wants, which is all he could ever really ask for. He _wanted_ to have Marcus back, but he's moved onto another division, and respectfully declined. I don't blame him, though. I think we put him through enough, don't you think?"

Jasper leans back in his seat, and smirks ever so slightly as the tips of his fingers play in the moisture on his glass. "They offered me my old job back, you know. With Intelligence. Given what I've done, I could have _any_ position I wanted."

She hadn't been made aware of that articulate piece of information. And she was slightly surprised that he hadn't taken it.

"Hill made sure that the offer was still on the table _in case I ever came back._ "

Eleanor swears under her breath. Because James knows her too damn well and he's been rooting for Jasper since the moment he found out that his colleague was in love with her. And he damn well knew that despite her best efforts to deflect it, she felt something else besides disdain for him.

"So you'll be making a call tomorrow to spite me."

"I was thinking about it, yeah," he answers as their plates are set in front of them. "Wanted to run it by you. Because I'm sure _someone's_ going to say _something_."

"I wouldn't stop you from working, Jasper," she says as she picks up her wrap and inspects it carefully. She doesn't know what she's looking for, really. But she does a quick inspection anyway because she's never eaten in a place like this before. She knows Jasper's watching her with a bemused expression, and she takes a large bite to hide her scowl.

"Is your executively catered stomach going to make it?"

"Shut up and eat your barnyard burger."

He smirks again, briefly, and then they fall into a comfortable silence.

* * *

"I'll take you back as far as I can. There's an entrance off of Hyde Park. I can park, and then walk you back to the tunnel."

"That's fine, I can go back through Green Park again," she protests lightly.

"There aren't any cameras in Hyde Park."

"Then by all means, _bodyguard."_

"I hope you don't talk to Hassan like that."

"Do you think so little of me?" She asks, her tone taking on a more serious edge as she turns to face him in her seat. "Do you think I just go around talking-"

"I don't think it, Eleanor. I _know_ it. _And_ you've done it at my expense," he replies, chancing a glance at her. His knuckles are white against the steering wheel. It's late. They've both have had long days, and he hasn't even been home yet. He hasn't been in his own flat in months. She doesn't want to argue with him about it and he's not in the mood.

He'd rather be going back inside the Palace with her, and she knows it. Eleanor knows she's being peculiar about their situation, and it's not just at Robert's expense, although it is a convenient excuse. She's refrained from telling him about Jasper's role in her life on purpose because he's got a temper on him that's much worse than Liam's. His military training has given him a shoot first, ask questions later attitude toward most unpleasant situations. He had broken Beck's nose when he had found out that he had been sleeping with her. And then threatened to do it again very recently when he found out that he had left his wife, for his sister, and then sent her out alone into a sea of paparazzi at his parent's country home when it became apparent that there wasn't a chance of a relationship blossoming between them.

Eleanor had told him to let it go because it was old wound that she didn't want open again. She was over it. She had moved on. She'd accepted that Beck was going to continue to be a fixture in her life whether she wanted him there or not, but she didn't seem him in a romantic light.

Not anymore.

They're silent for the rest of the way back to Hyde park, and he's holding her hand tightly in his own on his lap. It feels strange for a number of reasons, but she doesn't voice it. Jasper's never held her hand before. She can't remember the last time anyone did. She prefers to pretend that the incident with Samantha never happened because it still hurts her to think about.

It still hurts her to think about the fact that he had such a huge role in it, too. He'd given up everything for her, and she's still struggling to understand _why_. She's messed up, she's emotionally detached, and she's never in a good mood. She knows that that's going to be a difficult conversation for her to stomach when it happens. He'll come forward with information about it when she's ready to ask, and she knows it.

"We're here."

Eleanor looks up and out the window. Sure enough, he's pulled over on the side of the road near a wooded section of the park. It's usually avoided by pedestrians because it isn't maintained very well, but if anyone ever ventured in far enough, they'd find a keypad locked door that would lead back into the tunnels, straight to the official Royal residence.

He's out of the car before she can unbuckle her seatbelt, and pulling open the door for her. She smiles gratefully and takes his offered hand, and gracefully slides out. And then he's got the door slammed shut and pushing her up against side of his car, his lips moving feverishly over her own. Her head hits the top of the car and her hat slides off as his hand knots in her hair, pulling her head back, exposing her neck to him. He moves from her mouth, to her chin, down her neck, to her collarbone, and then back up again.

"Jasper," she says between kisses. "Not here."

"Are you letting me back in?"

"No."

"Len," he sighs, resting his forehead against her shoulder.

"Not yet," she begs. "Just trust me on this, please."

"I can handle my own, Eleanor. I know you're worried about Robert-"

"Robert's the last thing I'm worried about," she cuts him off then, and pushes him away from her. "It's _you_. There's a very, very difficult conversation that we _need_ to have, and until I know that you're not going to fuck me over again, you're not allowed back in my house. Do you understand me?"

"Fine. Let's go."

"Don't, Jasper."

"Look, I know this isn't how either of us expected tonight to go. I don't even know how I expected it to go. All I knew is that as soon as I got off that plane, I needed to see _you_. I've just got you back, Eleanor. Don't drag me through this again," his tone is strangely passionate for someone who is usually so stoic.

It's then she realises that despite her best efforts, she is being extremely hard on him. Again. Not that she wants to be, but it's necessary, given their history.

"I don't want to talk about it right now," she sighs as he wraps his arm around her as they disappear into the brush. "I'm sorry."

He squeezes her side in acknowledgement.

"Call me tomorrow," he demands once they reach their destination. "You have my number now."

"I will. I just have some things that I need to do tomorrow first, okay?"

He studies her face, looking for answers, but she's not giving any up and she refuses to elaborate. He pulls her in for another long, heated kiss before abruptly pulling back. He needs to go. She needs to get back in the palace before someone realises that she's gone.


	6. Like Treasure

A/N: This is another flashback-heavy chapter, and is also the longest one yet. I had to cut some of it back because it was nearing over 6000 words and no one needs to be subjected to that this early in the game. Boggles my mind how it was a chore to do that in university and now I'm just like, oh no big. Anyway I'm glad you're enjoying this and I'm quite far ahead in terms of writing so I'm going to be updating on Wednesdays and Saturdays now.

* * *

 ** **Chapter 6: Like Treasure****

* * *

James has been looking at her funny all evening. He came down to inform her that Colin's officially been transferred out, and now she's back down to one member of her security detail once again. But he's been sticking around, and she's got things to do.

"Is there anything else you needed to discuss, Mr. Hill?" She asks finally, setting down her teacup and turning to face him as he sits across from her in her room. She crosses her legs and waits as he paints a very careful expression on his face.

"I received a call this morning," he begins. She gestures for him to continue. "Mr. Frost has been reinstated with a role in Secret Intelligence Services. He's no longer in Royal Security, but he is back in London, working. I thought you deserved to know, Princess."

She's already known for a week, but he said James wouldn't know immediately because he had to go through security checks again before he would be allowed back. He'd be in a different division than what he was in before. A more higher ranking, senior role that he says he can't talk about yet. Something more established than _just_ a bodyguard. _Something_ , that if maybe the palace sanctioned a _possible_ , future relationship, or something, wouldn't be entirely frowned on by society.

Instead she lowers her eyes to her hands and presses her lips into a thin line. "You can go now. Tell Hassan he can stand down for the rest of the day. I'm not leaving tonight." she says finally without looking up. James nods, and leaves her room without another word.

Five minutes pass, and then the door slowly opens and Hassan pokes his head into her room.

"GPS?"

"Not tonight," she says, and slowly rises to her feet.

"Have a good evening, Your Highness."

Eleanor's finally left alone with her thoughts. She hasn't heard from him for two days. It wasn't for lack of trying, she had sent a couple of texts, and tried calling a few times. She didn't want to seem desperate for him. She wasn't eager. He was busy getting his clearances sorted for his new job and all of that. Regardless, it was still incredibly irritating and Eleanor's not used to not getting her way. She's not used to being ignored.

"Lenny?" Robert calls from outside her door. "Can I come in?"

"Of course," she calls back, and tosses her phone down on the table, keeping it face down for an added layer of caution as Robert pushes through her double doors, holding a bottle of red wine and two glasses. "You're a bloody saint. I think you're my favourite King, Robert."

"Just doing my civic duties," he says airily, pulling a corkscrew out of his back pocket as he sets the glasses down. He easily pulls out the cork, and pours her a glass and hands it to her before pouring one for himself, and then promptly collapses on her sofa.

"So what brings you down here, _bro_?" She asks carefully, taking a long drink from her glass.

Robert studies her over the rim of his glass before he too, takes a long drink.

"Talk to me, Eleanor. I know something's up."

"Nothing's up."

"So mind telling me why my security detail saw you sneaking out several times last week? _And_ this week when he was reviewing the tapes from the overnight shift?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replies dismissively, not breaking his stare.

"Are you using again? Are you in trouble?"

"No, I'm not in trouble. And if you keep bombarding me with outrageous questions and backing me into a corner every five bloody minutes, I might start consider using again. Don't be ridiculous, Robbie."

"If something's going on, Lenny, I _need_ to know."

Eleanor's silent, and she's stubborn. In some senses, she's her mother's daughter through and through. But Robert's her brother and he's got the same blood flowing through his veins, too. They're going to be there all night, and she's not in the mood.

"Robbie," she sighs finally. "You can sit here and stare at me all goddamn night and try and coerce me into telling you that I'm up to no good or some goddamn rubbish, but I'm not. I don't like smoking in the palace because I'm tired of listening to mum bitch, so I go down to the tunnels and do it. That's all."

"For hours on end?"

 _Fuck_.

She takes another drink of her wine, and keeps her eyes trained on the window over his shoulder.

"Who was that bloke in Munich, Lenny?" He asks quietly. "If he's not titled, _that's fine_. You know I don't give a shit. Mum would get over it, eventually. Liam'll date a nice, well-off girl. He already is, for fucksakes. You can do what you want. You know that I don't care."

She presses her lips together and folds her arms across her chest. She wants to tell him, badly.

"Not yet," she says finally, her voice just above a whisper. "Just let me deal with this, Robbie. I need to make some things right first, okay?"

"Promise me that you're not doing anything illegal. And that you're not in trouble."

"I promise you that everything is _fine_."

"It's okay if you don't come home, sometimes, Len. I know you've been sneaking back in at five am. No one expects _you_ to be a saint. I know you've been an angel purely for my benefit and I know you must be screaming inside. I'd rather you not resent me for it later. I know I'm the King, but I'm still your brother. We're close, Lenny. I don't want to lose that. Not with you."

His green eyes bore into hers intently. He's always had this way of holding the attention of whoever he's speaking to, regardless of the topic or the situation. He's easy to talk to, always has been. Which is why she feels so awful about keeping a large part of her past- and whatever's going on with Jasper- quiet from him.

"I just need to work some things out, Robbie. That's all. Don't take offense to it. _Please_."

He sighs, and drains his glass and sets it carefully on top of her coffee table. Robert knows full well that she isn't going to budge on the subject. Something happened with her in his time away from his family, and nobody's telling him what it is. His mother's been putting up a pretty good front about keeping Eleanor's secrets, and Liam's not offering anything to the table either. Some horseshit about a twin code that apparently overrides the bro code.

If there's any two people on this Earth that don't give a fuck that he's the King of England, it's Liam and Eleanor. And he's more than thankful for it. Eleanor's got some deal worked out with Hassan, too, he's sure. If there is a man involved, he's got to be something different. Has to be. He's reluctantly seen enough men come traipsing out of his sister's bedroom without her batting a single eyelash, never to be seen or heard from ever again.

Whoever the hell _he_ is, he's got some set of balls asking his sister, a goddamn Princess, to sneak out of the palace after hours. Especially given the events of the last year. Things are finally starting to return to some sort of normalcy, both royally and security wise.

Something's missing. From Liam, but more so from his sister.

"I love you, Lenny," he says finally, and kisses the side of her head. "I'll make sure no one says a word if you want to stay out tonight."

"Love you," she reiterates, smiling tightly as she looks at her silent phone. It's been two days. "I'm in for the night, Robbie. I think I'm going to turn in early. I have to go to that thing tomorrow with mum at the children's hospital."

"If that's your story," he murmurs, swiping the bottle of wine, and leaves without another word.

She waits until the sounds of his footsteps disappear down the corridor before she leans forward and picks up her mobile. Still nothing. She opens her messages and scrolls through their history. Five messages from her to him in a forty-eight hour period. Three phone calls. Two yesterday, one today. From her, to him.

Eight attempts at contact in total.

Each message less and less detailed than the last, which is nothing but a ' _Hello_?'

She's failed to leave a message on his voicemail. He's paranoid. He doesn't check his voicemail because his phone is on him 24/7. But apparently, not the last two days.

 _Two. Fucking. Days._

* * *

She's only driven handful of times, and she's never ventured too far away from home. She's definitely never ventured to the other side of London. She's narrowly avoided being the cause of four accidents because the slut on Google Maps isn't being quick enough with the directions, and she can't handle the SUV right. It's fast. Too fast for her. Liam and Robbie would most likely be taking the piss out of her if they knew that she had snuck out, with a car.

But now she's sitting in the car outside his flat. There's lights on, and he's home. He has to be. Unless the bastard's had a heart attack and is lying dead in there.

She looks at her phone again, but there's nothing.

Not a goddamn thing.

So she's out of the car, slamming the door in the process as she storms up the walkway and grabs hold of the door handle, but the door is locked. Of course it is. Most people lock their doors. She has a goddamn guarded fence around her house, to compliment the big technical door locks she doesn't know how to use because she's a goddamn Princess. Eleanor pounds loudly on the door.

Finally, there's rustling on the inside, and then the door unlocks from the inside.

She huffs loudly.

She can practically see the look on his face, and she hopes to God that he can see hers because it's less than impressed.

Then he pulls the door open, and he's staring at her, bottle of beer in hand. He's there, and he's fine. He's _fine_ , with a few days worth of scruff on his face, but he's fine. Wordlessly, he steps aside, allowing her to walk inside his home.

"Did you break your hands?"

"No."

"Did you come down with an awful case of laryngitis?"

"No."

She turns to face him. His expression is blank. She tilts her head, looking at him. Looking for some sign that would give up his reasoning. He's not offering her any explanation or apology.

Of course he's not. It wouldn't be Jasper if he did. She'd be worried if he was on his knees spewing out apologies and begging for her forgiveness.

"Then what the fuck, _Jasper_?!"

"I'm sorry," he says lamely. "I just… I've been busy with getting shit sorted with work and I was going to call you tonight and explain- how the hell did you get here, anyway?"

"I drove here."

"By yourself?"

"No, in _Ron Weasley's flying Ford Anglia_. _Yes, I drove myself here_! Jasper _you_ know I don't-"

"Eleanor."

"And you know that I can't stand-"

"Eleanor," he repeats, talking over her. "Yeah, I know you're a goddamn princess. _The_ goddamn princess. We've had this argument before."

"Then why didn't you call?!" She shouts.

"Liam showed up," he says loudly. "Liam showed up and then demanded to know why I was back. Asked if I seen you. Told him I haven't because _you_ told me that you didn't want to see me ever again. I figured I'd give it a few days to calm down because I wasn't sure if he'd be after you about it. _I'm sorry, Len,_ " he reaches for her then, and pulls her up against him.

"If it were anyone else I'd have been worried, Jasper. But it's _you_ and _you're_ the goddamn king of being a dick at the most inopportune times-" she rants, and his arms are slinking around her waist. His fingers are creeping low over the back side of her leggings. He's got that look on his face that he knows he's forgiven, but he's letting her blow out the hot air she's got built up because she needs to.

"Are you done?" He breathes in her ear. "Because I'd _really_ like to get onto apologizing now, if that's okay with you."

Eleanor pulls back slightly, and nods. Her lips part slightly as he pulls her back in, and urgently presses his mouth against hers as he backs her up against the side of the staircase. His flat's small and narrow and absolutely nothing like she's used to, but she doesn't care. She's in no place to complain.

"Because I _did_ miss you," he whispers in her ear. "Missed you a hell of a lot."

"Stop worrying about safety," she replies, roughly raking her hands through his carefully gelled hair, thoroughly messing it up. "Not your issue anymore."

" _Mm_ , no," he agrees between heated kisses. "But you do have two brothers that would like to do nothing more than slit my throat if they knew what I'm about to do to their baby sister."

"Robert suspects something is going on. He came to see me tonight and tried to suss it out of me," her hands roughly pull his black shirt over his head and drops it before pulling him back to her.

" _Can't_ \- can't keep _this_ up forever babe," he undoes his belt and the buttons on his jeans as she quickly removes her leggings. He grins saucily when he realizes she's foregone knickers.

Eleanor's beyond words at this point as he roughly turns her around and she braces herself against the wall. His hands slide over her backside as his forehead rests against the side of her head as he presses himself up against her, and slips inside, filling her completely.

"Fuck," he says through gritted teeth as she rises on the tips of her toes as he slowly begins to move. "Eleanor, I'm not going to do _that_ ever again. _This…_ "

"Feels good," she moans, resting her forehead against the wall. His free hand tangles in her hair, pulling her back to him. " _Harder_."

He lets her go, and as she falls back toward the wall, his hips slam into her own in perfect sync.

He's moving fast, because they usually don't have time. She never stays, but with the quasi-agreement she's got going on with Robert right now, she has every intention of staying all bloody night.

She can tell he's close by the way he's gripping her hips, like he can't get close enough and she knows the feeling because he's continuously hitting _that spot_ over and over deep within her.

It's scary how well he knows her body. He caught onto what she liked freakishly fast. By the third round of their second night together, infact.

But she supposes that's what happens when you spend nearly every night together for six months.

Jasper Frost is a man of many talents. He's extremely good with his hands. _Too good_ , really.

And then he comes hard, deep inside of her with his body completely flattened up against hers with his fingers tangled with her own across her stomach. He presses a breathless kiss to her sweaty neck, and the slowly pulls out, and her body slacks against the wall as she struggles to catch her breath.

The words are on the very tip of her tongue, and she almost says it.

She's never said it to anyone else besides Beck, and _that_ clearly didn't work in her favour.

Now isn't the time to be thinking about bygones with Beck.

His lips are on her neck and his hands are back on her, turning her to face him.

His blue eyes are shining, and she can see right away that he's exhausted from not only this, but doing god knows what else over the last few days.

"I can stay," she admits softly as she meets his gaze. "All night. I made sure to bring an unmarked car."

"Good," he replies simply, and then he pulls her towards the direction of the staircase without another word.

* * *

" _What are you thinking?" Samantha asks, slinking her arms around his shoulders, and presses slow, open mouth kisses to his neck as he sits on the edge of the bed. It's shortly after five in the morning and he's been in an uneasy sleep for the last few hours to the point where he's ready to give up._

" _I'm tired of doing these small, shitty jobs," he sighs. "Ten grand is great. For one person. To start. But we're two people and five grand is pocket change, Samantha. I just want to do one more good job and be done with it."_

 _I don't want to do it anymore._

 _I never did._

 _He recalls sitting in some counsellors office when he was eighteen years old. The man is cautious and sympathetic, because he's seen his school record. Thirteen schools in eight years. Parents with questionable jobs. All the comments by his teachers say he's brilliant, one of the brightest in his year. But he doesn't apply himself. Doesn't make friends. Is teased because of his name._

 _He asks him what he wants to do when he graduates, and methodically recites off all of the schools in the state of Nevada._

 _He's got no interest in getting further education. His family can't afford it. His bohemian, thieving mother would laugh in his face for even suggesting it._

 _His father's already fucked his social security number up by putting utilities under his name. So there goes any chance of securing financial aid._

" _Security," he said finally. "I'll just work security on the strip. Good money in that, you know."_

 _He remembers being nineteen, and his father arguing with his mother about a job he just fucked up. He's heard this argument hundreds of times and he wants to tell him to shut the fuck up about it because he knows that he can do a better job._

 _Turns out he said that out loud, and his father laughed and said go right ahead then, if you're so fucking smart._

 _He's gone for two days. One day to secure a fake ID to get into the casino, and one day to complete his father's failed card counting con. Jasper's always been good at math and he's seen enough illegal card games in his life to know what to do. To know what to say._

 _He returns home late at night on the second day. His father's passed out on the sofa with CNN blaring in the background. He kicks the elder version of himself awake._

 _His father stares at him, tired, and eyebrows raised._

 _Jasper keeps his expression neutral as he reaches into his interior pocket and withdrawals three thousand dollars in cash, in a plastic bag and drops it in his lap and goes to bed._

 _He remembers the night he met Samantha Cook. He was twenty-three, and he'd been working as a security guard at the Bellagio for almost six months._

 _She'd had her eye on him ever since she saw him fix a card game in his favour. It wasn't a for a large amount, just fifteen hundred. Enough for his rent and a few other things that his salary wouldn't cover. He'd rather live on the streets than live with roommates._

 _She told him that she wouldn't rat him out because her father was Silas Cook. And he damn well knew who Silas Cook was because his father owed him money once upon a time. They had moved three times in one year when he was fifteen to avoid him because his parents hadn't gotten enough cash to pay off their debt to him._

 _Samantha didn't have to do cons to survive, because her family was loaded with dirty money and she'd always have the best of everything, no matter what. She did it for fun, and she wanted to have fun with him. In more ways than one._

" _If you want to do a 'good job', Jasper, you're not going to get it done here. Not in Vegas," she says matter of factly as she pulls on his discarded button down shirt._

 _He's known that for weeks. For months, really. If he wants out of all of this- he's going to need to pull the biggest con he's ever pulled because he needs to let Samantha go. It was fun. Sometimes, it still is. The sex is great, and she's got that thing she does with her tongue that gets him every. Damn. Time. He's got issues from his parents being the way they are, so he might as well tell them to go straight to hell, too. He's never going to have a normal life. He'll never be able to fully trust anyone. He'll sure as hell never be able to love anyone. The notion of him him even having a home- a wife- a family is even laughable to him. It's not a dream, it's not going to be his reality. Ever._

 _So, it's one last good job to get out of this and live the solitary life he's always wanted._

 _He just needs to figure out what the fuck it's going to be._

* * *

Eleanor's usually the first one to fall asleep, but tonight it's Jasper. She's never taken the time to actually look at him while he's passed out, and she's pleasantly startled when she finally does. Whatever stick he's usually got shoved up his ass during the day has dissipated, and he looks closer to his twenty-seven years. His jaw isn't tight, and his guard is down. She can't _not_ touch him. Slowly, tentatively, she brushes his fringe out of his face. It's getting long, but he usually has it styled back. She thinks that it quite possibly was when she arrived earlier in the evening, but her fingers had quickly nullified that without a second thought. Eleanor slowly trails her fingers down the side of his face, gently brushing the whiskers he's got sprouting on his cheek. It's a change from the usual clean shaven appearance he sported while he was working in the palace. It makes him look more human, and less security robot.

"Can't sleep?" He murmurs without opening his eyes. Eleanor quickly draws her hand back from his face.

She forgot that he was a light sleeper. He had to be, sharing a bed with her. Especially way back when when she had tried to get her hands on his mobile to delete the alleged sex tape he had of her.

"I don't sleep well in strange places," she admits, settling back down in his bed. She's surrounded by the smell of him and the harsh clean scent of his laundry soap. He must have recently washed his sheets. His pillows are overstuffed and slightly uncomfortable and they hurt her neck. She's not bold enough to curl up next to him and use his torso instead. Not yet.

The words _Jasper_ and _cuddling_ still sound weird in the same sentence in her head, and she'd rather be caught dead than say it outloud. She's never been one to voice her feelings.

"What's on your mind?" He asks as rolls onto his back, and stretches. He's realised that she's wide awake, and she's not going to be winding down anytime soon. She's always had a touch of insomnia. That's where the drugs came in to help, but since she's gotten clean she's fallen back on the sleepless night bandwagon.

"Why me?"

It's a loaded question. One he hadn't been expecting from her at three in the morning. Not yet, anyway. He knows that it's something they're going to have to talk about, eventually. He owes her that much, and she knows it. It's not meant to be three o'clock in the morning pillow talk. But it's been weighing on her mind for weeks. For months. Ever since she found out that that's why _they_ came.

"We thought you didn't deserve it. That you hasn't earned it." Jasper tells her, keeping his eyes trained on the dark ceiling. "Thought you'd be _dumb_ enough to fall for me. That you'd be dumb enough _trust_ me. Not just you, but your whole family. Ted. All of them. To the point where I'd have unrestricted access to the Jewel House, fuck with the security videos, get the diamond, and take off. We had a buyer setup for it, that's how confident we were. They were going to break it, and sell it on the black market, or sell it back to the Indian government. I didn't give a shit what they were going to do with it. As long as I got my cut. That's the abridged version."

Her chest rises and falls silently as she drinks in his words.

" _Thought you'd be dumb enough to fall for me."_

" _That you'd be dumb enough to trust me."_

"How much was it, Jasper?" Eleanor asks finally. She needs to know. They had stuck a price tag on her emotional wellbeing and mental stability, and she deserves to know what it is.

"Fifty million. American. Split sixty-forty."

Eleanor sucks in a deep breath. He gave up thirty million dollars. _For her_.

"I'll tell you the full story another day. But it's late. You _know_ I don't think that now. I got to know _you_. All of _you_."

"And now you're sustaining on my mother's hush money," it comes out harsher than she wanted, but it's out there. It is what it is.

"I had some in savings from when I worked in the palace. They paid me out my severance package when I left. I'm sure James pulled some strings for it, but I haven't touched what your mother's given me. If that's what you're worried about, Eleanor, I'll give it back. I'll donate it to charity. Throw it in the Thames. Whatever you want."

She rolls on her side, away from him. She can't look at him right now. She shouldn't have asked, but she had to. She would have had to someday, very soon. And he needed to go more in depth than indirectly saying he thought that she was stupid and an easy target. He wasn't the first to think that. Nor would he be the last. She wasn't exactly the poster child for brilliance, either.

But the fact that it's what her public life looked like made her an easy target- _again-_ resonated with her.

"Liam and Robbie went to Eton. A boys only school. It's family tradition, see," she whispers, staring at the glowing numbers on his alarm clock. "I went to a private girls college in London, and mum and dad thought it'd be best if I went with my cousins. And you _know_ what they're like," she says darkly.

"Yeah," he replies tightly. He hasn't moved an inch. He's afraid, because he knows that she'll shut down the second she gets overwhelmed.

"So it was harder for me to make friends. But I did, eventually. Or I thought I did. They were nice. Mum told me to invite them over for tea after school, if I wanted to. So I did, and they came over, and I showed them my room. I left for not even fifteen minutes, because I had to talk to mum about something- and they raided my closet. And you _know_ what I keep in there, Jasper. Everything. All my clothes. My jewelry. _Everything_.

"These weren't some common, rich girls from school. The parents of these girls are high ranking, government officials. Their fathers were Lords and Dukes. If it got out that they had stolen from me- _the princess_ \- it would have been a media shitstorm. So my mum told me to deal with it. That these things are replaceable. There was no ' _I'm so sorry, Eleanor_ ' or ' _We'll try and get your things back for you, darling_ '. It was ' _Alright, Eleanor, how about we transfer you to Marlborough College?'_ "

He had no idea. And of course he didn't, because why would he? She had never been forthcoming with information about her childhood, and he only knew what he had gathered from endless hours of reading up about her on the Internet. His ultimate goal had been Princess Eleanor.

Just not in this way. Never this way.

* * *

" _So this thing is housed right in the Palace. I've gotten ahold of the blueprints. It's in their private household, near their bedrooms. It's under traditional royal security, and then it's housed in it's own glass case, under traditional lock and key. No keypad, nothing," he explains to Samantha and her father. They sit across from him in a dark corner of the hotel's bar, and he can tell from the look on Samantha's face that she's not sure if he's crazy or brilliant._

 _She was right. He wouldn't be able to get anything close to home, so it was going to be an international operation. Something traditional. Something that if he was successful, too successful- his name would be remembered for years to come, and that would be the ultimate slap in the face to his mother and father._

 _So, the Koh-i-Noor it was. The last time someone even tried to steal it was in the 1600's. The British Monarchy was all about tradition, and pomp and circumstance. And their security, thankfully for him, was several lightyears behind for something that was apparently so precious._

" _So, how are you going to get it? Mission Impossible style? Come in through the ceiling?" Samantha smirks, looking over the map he's pushed across the table to her._

" _Princess Eleanor," he explains, moving to the next photo on his iPad. It's an older photo of her, at a state dinner, smiling and laughing. She's pretty. Tall and thin. She looks like royalty with a sparkling tiara nestled in her long, dark tresses._

 _She's been surrounded by controversy because she's recently dropped out of college, and has since been spending her nights painting the town of Paris and Milan red, much to her father's disdain, he's sure. He hacked into her school's records and found her grades. She did alright, nothing outrageous. Just average._

 _She had potential to be a great fashion designer, but didn't apply herself, the internal comments had said._

 _Didn't work well with others._

 _Demanding, had to have things her own way._

" _Literally, a Princess," one had said._

 _The comments hit a little closer to home than he'd like to own up to. But she was an easy target. She was used to having the material things in life, and burned through bodyguards like nobody's business. He'd have to spend at least a year in training with MI5 before he gunned after a position with Royal Security._

 _This wasn't going to be a short con. Not by a long shot. It was going to be the longest one he's ever done. The greatest one he's ever done. It'll be his last one, whether he succeeds or not._

" _She'll be easy. She is easy."_

" _So you're gonna sleep with her," Samantha raises her eyebrows at him, smirking. "Classic Frost move."_

 _He rolls his eyes._

" _You're convinced you can do this?" Silas says finally, drawing his eyes away from the documents in front of him as if they're discussing a business proposal. "Because I know some guys who know some guys who WILL find a buyer and put a deposit down on this."_

" _Yes. Like I said. It's just a matter of getting into the palace and getting access to their security systems. It's laughable how easy this is. So easy," he explains. "It's just going to take time to actually get in there. And get to her."_

" _Looks like it won't be too hard for you to get into her," Samantha muses. She's reading stories about Eleanor on her phone._

" _Samantha," her father chides gently, frowning. He's never fully approved of the working relationship that he's got going on with his daughter. He doesn't think he's good enough. He comes from shit parents that he's embarrassed of. Silas doesn't want to say that his daughter's partner is the son of Tom and Julia Frost. But he is, and he hasn't fucked up yet. He's ridiculously clean cut and unattached to every situation, seemingly. But he's nice. Too nice. He's seen the boy show remorse on more than one occasion._

 _But he'll give him this, because there's more money at stake than anything._

 _He draws up a fake background for him, and Jasper secures himself an interview with Military Intelligence._

 _He's on a plane to London, England by the end of the week._

 _He wants to stay there._

 _He just doesn't know it yet._


	7. Colours

_**Chapter 7: Colours**_

* * *

She's at some charity luncheon with her mother for some sort of cancer when her mobile dings in her clutch. She can see her mother's scowl as she further distances herself the from the conversation, and reaches inside her bag and withdraws her phone.

It's from Jasper. There's no text on the lock screen, meaning he's sent a photo.

She frowns, and unlocks it as she takes a drink of her tea. And then she sputters, choking on the hot beverage, when she sees what he's sent.

The bastard in question is standing in his hallway, wearing a freshly pressed, black tailored suit, starched white dress shirt, and black skinny tie. Hair styled just so. Brand new _Hublot_ watch on his wrist. Clean shaven, and his other hand rests delicately on the button of his suit jacket as his gaze smoulders in the mirror at her.

He knows he looks damn good.

 _First day back at work,_ he sends along a few moments later.

"Everything alright, darling?" Helena asks, breaking her out of her trance as she stares at him, her lips parted ever so slightly. Eleanor hastily locks her phone and drops it back in her bag as every eye at the table swings to her as her cheeks flame red.

"Yes, just fine," she says quickly, rising to her feet and takes her bag with her. "Excuse me for a moment."

Hassan's eyes are on her as she heads down the corridor toward the lavatory, and she waves him off. She's not going anywhere, and she won't try to sneak out. Not this time, anyway.

She shuts herself inside the small room, and secures the door and pulls her phone back out as she leans against the wall. A slow smile spreads on her lips as she takes in his photo again. Jasper _has_ been making a more conscious effort. He sends her texts on the nights she can't get away. Lets her know that he's thinking of her throughout the day. It's sickening, really. And she finds it slightly hilarious because she'd never expected it from _him_ in a million years. He's still incredibly cautious and doesn't offer up much when they are together, but then again, neither does she.

Robbie hasn't approached her about it again, but he's got this look on his face that's a cross between self-satisfaction and irritation when he looks at her because he knows that she's purposefully keeping something from him. _Someone._

Liam's stopped by, too, and danced around the subject. Asking if she knew if any of their old friends were in town. _Any_ of them. If they wanted to grab a pint. She tells him to bugger off, because he damn well _knows_ because he's got a glint in his eye that's reserved only for her when he knows that she's hiding something.

 _I'm at a charity luncheon for christsakes!_ She quickly typed back.

 _There wasn't anything inappropriate. This time._ He promptly replies. _About to go in. Will I see you tonight?_

 _Tunnels._ She answers, and then he falls silent.

Eleanor heads back out, phone held tightly in her hand. Hassan's waiting for her.

"Ready to leave, Your Highness? Your mother is just wrapping up."

"Yes," she says softly. "Take the long way home, yeah? By the river."

He smiles, because he knows what building is down by the Thames.

"Cat's gotta come out of the bag sometime, you know, _Len_ ," he says once they're safely in the the car.

"I know," she murmurs, resting her head against the tinted window. "Soon. I think."

"The King has been asking me questions. About you. He's wondering if I know where you've been going. I told him I didn't, because I don't. But don't be surprised if he'll be putting someone on your trail, Princess. It has been two months now."

"I know," she repeats, sighing as she pulls out her phone.

 _Stop stalking me_ , she sends to Robert. He's in a meeting with the Prime Minister, so he won't get it until much later.

He doesn't reply, but she sees his read report.

* * *

"I'll let you in _tonight_ if you promise to answer a few questions _."_ Eleanor breathes against his mouth as presses her up against the side of the bridge they're standing on in Hyde Park. His mouth is hot on hers, and he's particularly needy tonight because he's been working on some difficult case at work he says he can't talk about. He's been pulling late hours working in a computer lab, and he's tired.

He sees her before he goes home nearly every night. Sometimes she goes with him, and sometimes she doesn't. It depends on what her schedule looks like the next morning. It's an awful routine they've gotten themselves into, and it's becoming too much. Everyone knows she's got something going on on the side, and she's surprised Robert hasn't sent the guard out after her yet.

It's been nearly three months now.

A lot of things have been aired, but a lot has been specifically avoided, too.

She's weakening. She wants him back in her bed. Wants him back in the palace.

 _And_ she knows about that bitch in his office that keeps hitting on him because he sends her photos of the coffee that she keeps buying him every morning, without fail. She writes his name on the side of his cup with a heart next to it. He says he's told her he's seeing someone, but since this _someone_ never seems to materialise or show up to any work functions or evening drinks, they're sure she doesn't exist, and he's just saying that she does so he doesn't have to deal with _Paige_.

And she wants to send a strong message, so she'll offer him what he's been craving the most. Jasper doesn't have a huge network in London, if at all. The only people he's ever truly considered friends were James and Liam, and he's been keeping the latter at arms length purely for her benefit.

She's sure James knows, but since he's been reassigned to Head of Security, she doesn't see him as often. But regardless, he likely knows. She knows that James and Jasper talk.

"And you'll come with me to meet my new friends? To prove your existence?" He jokes.

"Anything you want," she confirms, wrapping her arms around his waist as his lips move down her neck.

"Alright," he breathes into her ear. "Ask me anything. I'll tell you. I'll tell you every goddamn thing you want to know, Eleanor."

He brings her back to his flat and they're sitting at his small kitchen table, staring at each other with a bottle of sherry between them, because they both know it's going to be necessary by the end of the night. She doesn't know what to ask him. She was kind of hoping he'd just spill it out, but he's not. Of course he's not.

"How did you meet _her_?"

"She caught me fixing a card game in my own favour."

"What for?"

"Rent money."

Goddamn his slippery intentions. Understandable, but slippery nonetheless.

"Your family? Did they actually disown you?"

"Mostly, yeah. I haven't spoken to my parents in over a year."

"Only child?"

" _Unwanted_ child."

 _Goddamnit._

"When did you know you couldn't do _it_?"

"When I realised I was in love with you. A week before the Masquerade."

She's in the process of lifting her glass to her lips, expecting him to shoot out some long winded, noble excuse, which she plans on promptly drowning in sherry. But then he spews out that, so easily. Too easily. As if he's known for a while. So she sets her glass down, and they resume their staring match.

She supposes he has. It's been well over a year.

She's known how she's felt about him for awhile, too.

There's something heavy hanging between them now. Something new. Something _different_.

"You know I have trust issues," she says finally.

"Yeah," he says gruffly.

"And _you_ contribute to them."

"I know."

"You're the bottom of the barrel, in hindsight, Jasper. You really are."

"I know," he repeats.

"And I appreciate what you've done. And how you've been with me these past few months."

"Why does this sound like you're breaking up with me?"

"That would involve us being in a _relationship_ , Jasper," she says scathingly.

He sighs, loudly, clearly exasperated, as he rests his elbows on the table and puts his head in his hands and knots his fingers in his hair. She's dragging this out, purposefully. Eleanor knows how touchy he is on the _relationship_ subject. Especially with her. Because of who she is. Because of what their past is. Because of what he is, and where he's from.

The last time a Royal had an open relationship with an American, the country had been in an uproar. Her great-great uncle had to give up his titles for his new bride. And he gladly did so, because he was happy. And in love.

Her grandfather had become King because of it. He hadn't expected to, because he was the spare. And now here they are.

"I don't know if you've realised this or not, but I can't be in a _relationship_ unless it's been _sanctioned_ by the _King_. So you _are_ my dirty little secret," she continues.

His forehead hits the table with a loud thud. She knows she's riling him up good.

"So if you're going to be throwing out terms like _girlfriend_ and _relationship_ , you're going to need to speak with Robert about that."

"I'd gladly speak to _Robert_ if you'd fucking let me," he says through gritted teeth.

"And I said I would. Come on, then," she clips, rising to her feet. She's the one with a car this time and she'll gladly deliver him to her eldest brother. This is something Robert's been salivating after for months. She knows that Jasper's got no clue what he's walking into, because everyone- mostly her- has kept him in the dark about _who_ Jasper Frost is.

Eleanor puts her jacket back on, and checks the time. It's shortly after two in the morning.

Robert's going to spit fire. The man likes his sleep. But Jasper doesn't need to know that.

If Jasper can make it through this without getting a broken nose, she might tell him she loves him, too.

* * *

 _Eleanor's just bailed him out of prison, so naturally he hasn't stopped complaining since the second she pulled away from the curb._

 _She's driving too fast._

 _She's not wearing a seatbelt._

 _She didn't look before she made that lane change._

 _She's going too fast, again._

 _She didn't look before she made that lane change. Again._

 _That's a one way street, she can't go that way._

 _Just because she knows she's the Princess, doesn't mean the rest of the people on the road know it, too._

 _Prison sucks, and the people in there are low life's that are clearly beneath him._

 _The bed wasn't as comfortable as hers, though he says that the prison guards are nicer to him than she currently was being._

 _She slams on the breaks, purposefully, as she approaches a stop light. He lurches forward and hits the dash, swearing loudly._

" _You know, that wouldn't have happened if you wore your seatbelt," she says dryly, leaning back into her seat as she lays on the gas again and takes off toward the palace._

" _When was the last time you heard from Liam?" He asks, ignoring her comment._

" _Yesterday morning. Just before Doctor Cohen said that we were bastards."_

" _Well, I hope he just referred to you when he said that," he mutters. "Is the phone on?"_

" _How the bloody hell should I know?!"_

" _When you send him texts, what colour are they?" He says loudly, purposefully talking over her as he rests his forehead in the palm of his hand. She's being difficult on purpose._

 _Not that he isn't goddamn grateful that she's rescinded the charges against him, he can tell she's still salty as hell about what happened. They aren't going to be sleeping in the same bed again anytime soon._

 _He's got to think fast, because if he doesn't, he's going to lose her for good._

 _Samantha can go to hell, and take the Koh-i-Noor with her. Eleanor's had to swallow a lot of shit in the last few days and he's sure the last thing she wants is to be dealing with him putting the moves on her for a goddamn diamond._

 _He's been gone for three days, and all hell's broke loose. So it's only natural she's agreed to meet some psycho under a (probable) drug bridge in North London to top everything off._

* * *

 _Her father's dead._

 _To top off an already wonderful week in the Henstridge Household, her father is dead, and the last words he ever spoke to her was his confirmation that she did disappoint him. Greatly._

 _Liam's the only thing that's keeping her upright. Now, more than ever. He's telling her it's going to be alright, but she knows it's not. Not for a while._

 _Liam guides her to the sofa across the room and she collapses on it, exhausted._

 _Jasper's still in the room, and he's out of place._

 _She knows it._

 _He knows it._

 _And he's looking at her with a tortured expression on his face, like he feels bad about what's happening to her. That he wants to go to her, and be the one to tell her that everything's going to be alright._

 _He rubs her back, trying to calm her down because she's about to go into a full blown panic attack because their father is dead._

 _Liam's also a dense git sometimes, so eventually he tells Jasper to help her back to her room. And she lets him, because she's going to tell him to go in approximately five minutes. His arms are around her, holding her tightly. Like a boyfriend would._

 _She's a mess. Her hair is messed up, her makeup is ruined._

 _Eleanor disconnects her body from his and she rests her hand on the doorknob to her room, breathing deeply._

" _Go. You're not welcome here anymore."_

 _And then she locks herself in her room without looking back. She's leaning against the door. A new, fresh set of tears are falling from her eyes. These one's aren't for her father, though. They'll come later._

 _He stands out there for another five minutes, until she hears him leave through the tunnel entrance just down the corridor._

 _She doesn't seem him again until she's in Paris._

 _And then again in Milan._

 _And in fucking Brazil._

 _And Liam's goddamn polo match._

* * *

Eleanor comes to a screeching halt in the garage, and then she's out of the car before the engine even has time to settle, and storming through to the staircase to bring them back up to ground level. He's at her side, leading her through the palace within seconds. She takes the lead, bringing him down a wing he's never gone, where Robert's rooms are.

And then she halts, and bangs loudly on the door until he wakes up.

"Oi! I'm coming! _Jesus Christ_!" Robert yells from deep inside his room. "What's this now?" He demands as soon as he's got the door open. Robert stands in front of her in a pair of dark grey pyjama bottoms and a black v-neck t-shirt, looking insanely pissed when he sees that it's his sister rousing him at this ungodly hour, and not some crisis that needs his immediate attention.

" _This."_ She announces, reaching to her side and pulls Jasper into view. "Is Jasper. _Jasper_ _Frost_."

Now, he's awake. And she's got his full attention, too. Jasper draws himself to his full height, and then bows respectfully.

He's never bowed to _her_. She frowns.

"Your Majesty," he says tightly. Jasper and Robert are staring each other into the floor, and she stands next to them, feeling like an intruder.

It dawns on her then that someone- _most likely Liam_ \- opened the can just enough to make Robert look at him the way he is right now.

" _Jasper Frost, huh_? So you're _the_ one my family's been awfully shifty about?" He continues, crossing his arms and leans against the doorframe. "The very same Jasper Frost I ought to be thanking for saving this monarchy? Or is it the Jasper Frost I ought to have tried for treason for banging my sister, so he could jack the Koh-i-Noor? The Jasper Frost who followed my sister around the globe when Cyrus took away her security detail? Or, is it the Jasper Frost that I was told, in confidence, by my head of security, that he was _not_ to be let into the Palace under _any_ circumstances by order of the Princess herself?"

Ah, so he does _know_.

She's going to kill Liam. Slowly. Painfully.

Baby picture by baby picture, on the Internet.

Robert's got a slow, dark smirk forming on his lips that she knows only to well because she's in possession of the exact same one, and has used it, on several occasions, at Jasper's expense. He's going to drag it out, and it's not going to be pretty. Jasper's jaw is tight because he recognizes that _smirk,_ and she's sure it's invoking a number of unpleasant memories in his mind's eye. Eleanor's listening to Robert list off both sins and virtues, and she cocks her head to the side, eyebrows raised, as they both await his reply with baited breath.

He'd do well not to fire back at the King of England in this moment. She knows it. He knows it. Robert's expecting it, because Liam's filled him in about the turbulent, sad relationship that he had with his sister and the ways he's heard him speak to her.

"Something like that, yeah," he says gruffly.

"Robbie," Eleanor says carefully, "you left out _the_ Jasper Frost who blackmailed me for six months with a false sex tape."

"Sex tape, you say?" Robert asks, his voice just as cautious as hers as he raises his eyebrows.

"There was no video. You've _got_ to let that go, Eleanor."

"Would you rather I bring up the other _thing_?" She asks lightly. Robert steps back then. He's taken her bait.

"Why don't you both come in? I'd rather not have this conversation in my hallway," he interjects into their argument before it can fully take off.

"So what is _this_ , Lenny?" Robert asks as they settle in around the table he's got set up on the far side of his room. It's covered in his laptop and mountains of papers.

And a large bong.

Robert is _definitely_ her brother.

"How long did it take Liam to crack?" She demands as soon as he's got himself situated across from them.

" _Bruv_ _code_ ," he says dryly as he leans back in his seat and folds his arms behind his head.

In this moment, Robert looks like the last person on Earth who should be a King, and more like someone who should be working at some startup in Silicon Valley based on the papers, the laptop, and the marijuana, and cigars he has on full display for them. His relaxed demeanour isn't helping the cause, either.

"I'm his bloody _twin_! I'm going to fucking kill him-"

"I believe killing the spare King of England is a _crime. Even for you,"_ Robert can go toe to toe with her far better than Liam can. And she hates him for it because verbally fighting Robert is like fighting a goddamn brick wall.

Eleanor's defeated. She knows it's over, and she's seething. She catches Jasper looking at her with an extremely smug expression on his face and she _knows_ he's just biting his tongue for the moment he can fire back. At her expense.

"I would wipe that arrogant, smug look off of your face, Jasper Frost," she hisses instead. It only causes his lips to move into an even bigger smirk.

"Anyway back to business, _Lenny_."

"Jasper seems to be under the impression that we're in a relationship," she states smoothly. "We ran into each other in Munich."

"So it actually was _room_ _service_."

Eleanor's eyes flash dangerously.

"Regardless, you can't be throwing about words like _relationship_ with my sister's name in the same sentence, Mr. Frost. _Princess_ Eleanor is only allowed to be in official _palace_ _sanctioned_ relationships. And I happen to be the one doing the sanctioning around here."

"Continue, Robbie," Eleanor gestures.

"And you're a _mudblood_ , according to that Yankee accent you've got. _Very_ controversial. Interesting background, too, according to your MI6 profile. Also _controversial_. Doesn't make for good press, see. And don't get me started on what you've done to Lenny. All I have to do is press a button to have you arrested. But I think _you_ already know that, yeah?"

Jasper nods slowly. His face is as stoic as it's ever been. His eyes are dark. He's not used to being spoken to in this manner, and he'd certainly never tolerate it, either, if it were different circumstances. The way she talks to him is one thing. But this _way_ Robert's talking is different. And not in the _that's my sister_ way, but in the _I'm the King of England and this is some serious shit_ kind of way.

"This bird that Lenny brought about. Liam said you knew her? Planned to rob us with her?"

"Yes," he confirmed. "I frequently did cons with her back in Las Vegas. Probably about five million dollars worth in total."

"Fucked her, too?"

Eleanor tenses slightly as the thought. As the memories of _her_ painfully resurface. The thought of Mandy/Samantha underneath Jasper or doing god knows what else with him makes her feel feel sick to her stomach. It makes her feel dirty.

"Yeah, I did."

Eleanor presses her lips together in a thin line and leans on her other arm, furthest away from him. Her eyes trail down to the table.

"Then why the fuck didn't you tell someone?"

Her eyes shut. _Yes, Jasper, why the fuck didn't you tell someone?_

"Because that would have, in turn, taken me away from _her_ in the process."

"Even though she thought you were rubbish. Even though she thought that her cigarette butts were of more value than you?"

"Yes," he says tightly. His hands are clenched into fists on his upper thighs under the table. She's sure that if he tightens his jaw anymore, his teeth are going to start cracking.

Eleanor knows full well that Robert will sanction a relationship. She's just making a show of it to be a dick, and Jasper knows it too. Because Robert's read _his_ profile from MI6, where he now works. And she knows that it would definitely have more in it to offer than whatever Liam fessed up with.

If she's going to be honest with herself, Robert ought to be more concerned about her personal conduct than that of Jasper's.

She's going to have to tell him, because Liam knows, and clearly her mother knows. And it just burns her that Helena _knows_ his bedroom conduct. And how damn good he is.

"One last thing, Robbie." She says finally, locking eyes with him.

"Oh yeah?"

"Eleanor-" Jasper interjects urgently.

"Mum," she talks over him as she pushes her leg forward and drives the thin heel of her boot into his shin, "thought Jasper wasn't good enough for me, once upon a time. So, would you like to know what she did, Robbie?"

Jasper's got a pained, tortured look on his face and he's pleading her with everything he's got to not to do this. He hates acknowledging that it happened just as much as she does, if not more.

Robert raises his eyebrows at her, and then looks to Jasper, his eyes darkening in anger because he knows what their mother is capable of. He wordlessly gestures for her to continue.

"Had Jasper round to _test his linguistics,_ if you get my drift."

Robert's careful, serious face cracks then, and curls up into blatant disgust as he looks back to her, as if he's hoping that she's just shitting on him. When he sees the look on her face, he knows that his sister isn't lying, and so his eyes swing back to Jasper, who's looking at the table. His gaze is narrowed, and she can tell he's angry. Very angry.

" _I love her_ , _alright?"_ Jasper says tightly. "It scares the goddamn shit out of me how much I love your sister. I'd do anything for her to forgive me for what's happened. I'd do _anything_ for her. And I frankly, don't give a _flying fuck_ that you're the King because she'll continue to see me anyway. _You know what she's like_."

Robert chortles then. "Fucking right I do. But regardless, you can't go about tongue fucking our _mother_ because she's threatened you _._ It's just wrong, on a myriad of levels."

"It's done, okay? It was a bad move on my part-" he groans, rubbing his face with his hands. Eleanor scoffs. "I'd really like to move on from that, but you _Henstridge's_ hold grudges like _nothing_ I've ever seen before. It's fucked up. The lot of you are all fucked!"

Both of them- she and Robert- sit there, dumbfounded at his outburst. Eleanor's not sure if Robert's looking pissed because Jasper's just told him that his family was completely fucked up. It's true, but it's beside the point. Or the fact that Jasper stopped giving a fuck a very long time ago about caring about what he says in the presence of royalty.

Eleanor's the last thing from Princess-like.

But she is a Princess. _The_ Princess.

Robert's got a dark blue bong sitting on his desk.

He's the bloody King of England.

"Lenny," Robert addresses her, directly- finally.

She settles back into her seat, and recrosses her arms as she looks at him.

"Do what you want. You know I don't give a shit. No nudes. That's all I ask."

"I know," she sighs, a small smile finally spreads on her lips. "You'll tell James he's allowed back in the palace, yeah?"

"Yeah," he confirms, his tone softening. "He's going to marinate in this. I hope you know that. And Liam, too. Now get the fuck out of my room so I can go back to bed. Some of us have to get up at six, thanks."

* * *

They're silent on the way back to her room, but she can tell that he's fuming. Not that she blames him. She's fuming, too. But for different reasons, at different people. Especially her twin brother, and it's taking everything she's got not to storm off down to his room and wake him up, too. She's got something else weighing heavily on her mind. Because Jasper doesn't have a broken nose.

He's indirectly told her that he's in love with her. He hasn't flat out said, "Eleanor, I love you." But he's said it in passing. She _knows_.

They've reached her room and she pushes the doors open, and crosses the threshold, turning on the lights as she goes. It looks exactly the same as it always did, except she did have the far wall repainted and had the wallpaper replaced from when she destroyed it with spray paint on the night that her father was stabbed. She's had the portrait of herself removed because she was sick of looking at her spray painted eyes, staring her down constantly. Judging her for what she's done. And what she hasn't done, too.

So now that wall's bare, just like the rest of them. Save for the one behind her bed that's got the large, ornate tapestry hanging behind it.

"So this means I can actually see you in the _daylight_ again?"

"Don't be so dramatic, Jasper. It's not very becoming," she replies airily, taking off her jacket as she turns to face him.

" _I'm_ being dramatic? He says loftily, pulling off his blazer and drops it haphazardly on top of one of her chairs as he takes in the adjusted surroundings around him. He's never seen the place so clean. It's slightly alarming, really. He takes a tentative step toward her. And then another. And another.

"Is it everything you thought it would be?" She murmurs as he towers over. His hands come to rest on her elbows, holding her in place against him.

"You tell me," he replies as his eyes bore into hers. "As much as I would like to _celebrate_ this long, unnecessarily drawn out process, I need to sleep, Eleanor. It's nearly four in the morning. I have to get up in three hours and go back to work."

"If that's your story," she pulls out of his embrace, and turns away from him and starts getting ready for bed. She's tired too. She's not in the mood. "I'll take you in the morning."


	8. Sugar

**Chapter 8: Sugar**

* * *

She keeps her promise. Or close to it, at least. Eleanor's gotten Hassan to drive them both to the Secret Intelligence Services building down on the side of the the Thames in Vauxhall. Hassan's keeping quiet, but he's got a thin, self-serving smirk on his face and she knows that the second she's alone in the car with him, he's got some sort of prize-winning comment to deliver to her.

She thought she'd wake up feeling different. Or that maybe Jasper would start instigating her by using the word _girlfriend_ and _relationship_ so quickly, just to get her going. But he hasn't. In fact, he's barely strung together more than four sentences since he's gotten up. He's tired as hell, and he's letting it shine through at her expense because he's still salty about her dragging him into see Robert in the dead of the night.

They're both drained; emotionally, and mentally.

"On the bright side, you know you'll have that coffee on your desk, Jasper," she says dryly as they pull up in front of the building.

"Not now, Eleanor," he grumbles, rubbing his face. He's got the same suit on that he wore yesterday. Not that anyone could tell the difference, considering he wore several variations of the same thing on the regular anyway. He's just left his tie somewhere in her room.

"Do you want me to send a car to pick you up tonight?" She asks instead, ignoring his comment.

"If you want. I left my car here overnight, anyway. It can stay in the underground car park if need be."

He's holding her gaze, with his hand on the door handle. The car is marked, and there's a few people outside on the street trying to peer in to see who is inside. She knows he wants to say it, and he's expecting her to say it back. She wants to, but not here. Not like this. Not with Hassan so obviously listening in.

 _Soon_.

"We'll discuss _this_ tonight," he says instead, and then easily unlocks the door. He's out of the car and shutting the door before she can reply.

No one pays him any mind, because no one knows who he is.

* * *

Eleanor beelines straight for her bedroom when she gets back to the palace, because she's not in the mood to deal with her family yet. She knows by now, Robert's likely filled Liam, Helena, and James in on what had occurred overnight, and _who_ came back with her. _Who_ spent the night. _Who_ left in a car this morning with she and Hassan.

She pulls herself off of her bed, and locks her bedroom door at the thought, because she knows damn well that when one of them's got a free minute, they're going to be pounding on her door, looking for answers.

She manages to evade them until the early afternoon. Hassan's outside her door, and she can hear him arguing- politely- with her mother and telling her that she's napping. He's been good putting up a front for her. Too good. She'll have to tell James to give him a raise or something.

 _Dinner_? Her phone dings from Jasper.

 _You don't waste any time, do you?_ She replies, lounging back in her pillows, with her legs folded comfortably underneath of her.

 _Work dinner._ He clarifies. That grabs her attention, and she smirks to herself because she knows what _work dinner_ means. That bird that has been grabbing at him will most likely be there, and he's ready to send a strong message. Jasper knows her well enough to know that she loves nothing more than sending a good, strong message to people she thinks are invading her territory. And if anyone's got the right to be territorial over Jasper Frost, it's most certainly her.

 _When?_

 _Six. Address is attached._

"ELEANOR! OPEN THE DOOR! _NOW_!" Helena shouts, and she sighs loudly. Too loudly. Just loud enough for her to hear her groan of frustration as she drops her phone down amongst her blankets, and once more, rises to her feet, grumbling under her breath about her mother needing to butt out of her life for once in _her_ life.

"Listen here, _mother_ ," she says heatedly as she wrenches open the door. "I know what you did, and I'm still bloody pissed off about it and I'm not in the mood. I'm _not_."

This was evidently not the conversation that the Queen was expecting to be holding with the Princess. She clearly had expected her to be in a more chipper of a mood.

"When?" Helena asks instead as she sidesteps Eleanor, and enters her room without an invitation. She's almost half expecting to see the man in question casually lounging on the bed.

"Munich," she sighs. "We ran into each other at a concert. The night before Robbie called and said you lot wanted me to come home. We had an _awfully_ long chat, mother."

"So he _was_ in the room," she confirms.

"Yes."

"I don't regret what I did, Eleanor. He needed to disappear and that was the best way to make it possible. I knew he was going to go after you, eventually. Jasper Frost has a way with his words, don't you agree, darling?"

"Mum," she says, exasperated. " _That_ wasn't your decision to make. I-" she falls silent then, catching herself.

Helena raises her eyebrows.

She _knows_ how Eleanor feels about Jasper Frost. She always has.

* * *

 _His hands on her are familiar. Too familiar, and she's got far too many emotions running through her right now to the point where she feels like she's going to be sick. She's sure of it. The way the crowd is descending down on them right now isn't helping the situation, either. They're loud, aggressive, and very, very angry._

 _Jasper's doing the best he can to keep them at bay and away from her, but he's only one person. He's only so strong, and he's not the superhuman he thinks he is. He's just a man._

 _He's just a man._

 _The realisation hits her like a ton of bricks._

 _Eleanor stumbles then, and she's at risk of falling back- and then he's catching her. He wraps his arm tightly around her waist as he shouts loudly in her ear at the others to back the fuck away. She's surprised he hasn't pulled out his gun yet. She thinks it's the only thing he likes more than terrorising her. Jasper's fingers are digging so painfully into her waist she's sure that he's going to bruise her._

 _It wouldn't be the first time, in all honesty._

 _This is a different situation._

 _They are different people._

" _Almost there, I can see the car." He says in her ear. He's essentially dragging her now because she's gotten herself worked up and she's all out of sorts._

 _She takes a deep breath, and pulls it together and lifts her head and wraps her arm around his broad shoulders, helping along his attempt to pick up the pace, all the while staying curled into his chest as per security protocols._

 _Curled around Jasper Frost once more is the last place she wants to be right now. It's too much. The skin on his neck is sleek with sweat. And she can smell him... It hurts and it's comforting all at once, because it's familiar, too familiar. But she can't deal with it right now. Now isn't the time to start shutting down because of what she may or may not feel for Jasper Frost. She can shut down about it later._

 _They've finally reached the door and another member of palace security is getting out of the Mercedes in a flash, pulling open the door for them. Eleanor quickly unwinds her body from his and bolts into the car, and takes the seat on the opposite side, furthest away from the door that she's just come through. She needs time to process._

 _Jasper gets in, assuming the seat across from her because he has to. He's struggling to catch his breath. They both are. She can't look at him. Not yet._

 _He had broadcast it. For her. So that whatever happened, she wouldn't have to hold the burden. Eleanor's not sure what's going to happen to Ted, but she's quite certain he could be beat to death by that mob in the stadium if the proper authorities haven't already intervened._

 _If Ted dies, it's not going to be on her._

 _It's not going to be on him, either._

 _But the guilt will still be there. It just won't be as strong. She'll get over it, eventually._

 _Deep down, she knows that he knows she couldn't have done it._

 _The air in the car is so thick with tension it could be cut with a knife. The windows are blacked out and she can't see anything. She doesn't want to. As a result, the back seat of the limousine is shrouding the two of them in an uncomfortable state darkness. She knows he's looking at her. She can feel his intense blue gaze begging her to look at him. To acknowledge whatever happened in that media room was real._

 _To acknowledge that there might be a chance._

 _There isn't anything to acknowledge. She doesn't know why she took his hand in there. She just did. She had to. Everything was falling down, and he was still there._

 _And now, he's still here. With her._

 _Just like he said he would be, last night._

 _The tears are finally building up in behind her eyes and she shuts them tightly as they tumble over, and fall down her cheeks. The leather in the seat across from her squelches as he moves. But he doesn't come across the car like she expects him to._

 _Like she wants him to._

 _Eleanor rakes her fingers through her tangled hair and quickly wipes her face and tries to somewhat compose herself. She's going to have to look at him eventually. She's going to have to acknowledge his presence when they arrive back at the palace._

 _It's the longest drive of her life._

 _There's a small crowd at the palace gates and she tries to block out their shouts as the car slowly pushes through them to get into the grounds. It's now that he chooses to move across the car to sit next to her. He has to get out first, and this is the easiest- and fastest exit route for him. He's not there because he wants to be. She's sure that he's only there because he has to be._

 _She told him to go, when this was all over._

 _It's all going to be over in a matter of minutes._

" _We're here," he says tightly._

" _Okay," she chokes out._

 _Jasper braces his hands on his thighs, and takes a deep breath. She lifts her head then, and they lock eyes. His are shining. His eyes always have been the most expressive part of him. He's the master of blank expression, but his eyes have always held a different story. He's seen things that she never will. He's experienced things she never will, because she's been so sheltered._

 _It wasn't supposed to be like this._

 _Not for her._

 _Not for him._

 _Jasper's the first to look away, and he rests his hand on the chrome handle, and pulls it to open the door. He easily exits the car, surveys his surroundings, and then extends his hand to her. Eleanor doesn't hesitate to place her hand in his again and he easily wraps his arm around her waist and leads her up the staircase to the front doors. There's some distant shouting at the gates, but she pays it no mind. She can't focus on it right now because all she can think about is the feeling of his hand on her._

 _He reaches forward and grasps the large handle, and pulls it open for her and she immediately separates from him and rushes inside._

" _Eleanor? Thank god." Helena's evidently been pacing the length of the entrance hall, waiting for her to return. She was briefed in the car on the way back that Liam made it back safe and sound. But he's nowhere to be found, that she can see anyway. Helena moves forward, and pulls her into her arms and then holds her face, as if she's looking for some sort of damage. "Are you alright, darling?"_

" _I'm fine, mum. We got out okay. There was a crowd, but Jasper dealt with it. We're fine. Where is Liam? I need to see him." Eleanor replies, watching her mother briefly hold Jasper's gaze over her shoulder before it comes back to hers._

" _He's watching the television coverage in the sitting room, darling. Mr. Hill is with him. Come along. You too, bodyguard. You've got just as much right to be in that room as the rest of us do," she says, and then puts a protective arm around Eleanor's shoulders, and leads her away._

 _Eleanor can't remember the last time that her mother was so protective of she and Liam. Something has changed in her- something primal, and protective- ever since it became evident that Cyrus wasn't the King everyone thought he was going to be. That he should be._

 _She herself wasn't too surprised, but he's going to die soon anyway and she's got more important things to worry about. Her brother has always mattered more to her than Cyrus has been._

" _Lenny?! Lenny are you alright?" Liam demands as he scrambles up from his spot on the sofa._

 _Eleanor's temporarily stunned by the footage that's playing on the television. Sky TV's got breaking news coverage on the telly. It turns out that the police were able to contain the mob after their departure. There's grainy, mobile phone footage of Ted, unconscious, being loaded into the back of an ambulance with a police escort. Liam's pulling her into his arms, hugging her tightly, but she can't look away._

 _She knows they caused this. Whatever happens to Ted, it's because of what she and Jasper have done today._

 _But they're not the ones that caused an uprising._

 _The people did that themselves, out of retaliation._

 _Out of anger._

 _King Simon was a good man- a good king- and everybody knew it._

 _Deep down, Ted knew it too. She's sure of it._

 _But this turmoil that's befallen her family- her once strong, resilient family- is all on him._

" _Fine. I'm fine. Are you okay?" She demands, finally looking away and returns his embrace, holding him impossibly tight._

" _I'm fine. I got out just in time. I saw… I saw them throw him down on the pitch. That was the last thing I saw."_

 _She nodded, because had seen it too. She and Jasper had a bird's eye view of the proceedings._

" _Jasper? You're alright?" He asks suddenly._

" _Fine," he confirms. He's looking at her again, and she's looking right back._

 _She's praying with everything she's got that Liam doesn't ask her what happened in the media room. She's not ready to talk about it._

" _Can I go lie down?" She asks finally._

" _Of course, darling," Helena says smoothly, her brow furrowed in worry. "Do you want-"_

" _I want to be alone," she replies quickly. "I just need to be alone right now. Please."_

* * *

 _Eleanor doesn't leave her room for twenty-four hours. She hasn't changed, and she's barely moved from her spot on in the middle of the bed. Everyone's left her alone. There's been a few texts from Liam, her mother, and Rachel, but she's assured them that she's fine and she'll make an appearance at dinner later that night._

 _Her twenty-four hours of solitude are almost up._

 _So it's only natural that there's a knock on her door._

 _There's only one person who would have the balls to come in there during this time._

 _She doesn't look up when he enters, but she knows it's him._

" _Can I get you anything?" Jasper asks quietly as he shuts the door with a soft click._

" _No." She answers. She's lying on her side, with her back to him, still in the same dress that she had worn at the stadium yesterday. She's got her thin blue blanket wrapped around her legs from the slight chill that's in her room tonight._

 _A sudden feeling of deja-vu washes over her, because they've been in this exact same position before. The last time, she'd been coming down off of a coke high, and he had proceeded to fuck her senseless._

 _And then apologised to her for acting like a dick._

 _This time, he's got nothing to apologise for because he's been nothing but a goddamn saint over these past few months. Following her around the globe, making sure she's protected, whether she wants him there or not. Finding her father's killer. Prevented Mandy or Samantha or whatever her name was from stealing the Koh-i-Noor. Getting her earrings back. Twice. Crafting the plan to take down Ted Pryce, just to name a few. Eleanor's quite sure that if the Archbishop of Canterbury ever finds out what he's done, he'd jump on his dick too and then put a good word in with the Pope to put Jasper Frost on the fast track to sainthood for all he's done for her family._

 _He doesn't deserve someone like her. Not by a long shot._

 _The floorboards creak as he takes a tentative step toward her. Her heart rate picks up because she's got a significant memory running through her mind. This isn't the first time they've been in this position._

 _There's no rustling of fabric, signalling he's taken off his jacket. No loosening of a tie._

 _She hasn't looked at him yet so she doesn't know what he's wearing. He could be causal, for all she knows._

" _Everyone is worried about you." Jasper whispers as he boldly takes a seat on the edge of her bed. He's close enough to her that she can feel the heat radiating from his body against her legs. "Including me."_

" _I'm fine."_

 _They fall silent again. She chances a look at him, and he's dressed in a dark, knit top and a pair of old ripped jeans, leaning forward on his elbow with his head in his hands._

 _She knows why he's there. He wants her to tell him to stay. After what happened yesterday- it's been a marginal improvement for both of them after spending months at an impasse._

" _Where?" She whispers so quietly he barely hears her._

" _Where what?" He says irritably because she's purposely evading him._

" _After this. Where do you go?"_

" _Back to Nevada."_

 _Eleanor falls silent again because she's conflicted. The heat from him is clouding her mind, and the flesh memory of him against her burns excruciatingly between her legs. She wants him gone because she's frightened, but wants him to stay for the same reason._

 _She knows he's tried. For her._

" _I don't want to go back there. My family isn't much of a family. I've been completely cut from-"_

" _Stop trying to make me feel bad for you."_

 _He's not, and she knows it. But he shuts up._

 _A knock sounds on her door, and then it pushes open. Still, she doesn't move._

" _Eleanor, dinner is going to be served- oh." Helena barges into the room but stalls when she sees the scene before her._

" _It's going to be served where?" She says dully._

" _In the informal dining room."_

" _Is Liam already there?"_

" _Yes," Helena says carefully, crossing her arms. "Go get changed out of that damn dress, Eleanor. And shut the door behind you because I need to have a few words with Mr. Frost about yesterday's events."_

" _Whatever," she mutters, and pulls herself up, and slides off the opposite side of the bed, and disappears into her closet, slamming her fake armoire shut behind her._

 _When she comes out, five minutes later, Jasper's gone, and her mother's sitting on her sofa, waiting patiently for her._

 _The next time she sees him is eight months later, at a concert in Munich, Germany._


	9. Bones

**Chapter 9: Bones**

* * *

"Eleanor, I _had_ to protect you. That man's broken your heart more times than I can count, and you said-"

"-Mum, you know nothing. _Nothing_!" She shouts. Everything she's kept bottled up for the past three months is coming to the surface. "HE SAID HE WAS GOING TO BE THERE, MUM. AND YOU FUCKING PAID HIM OFF, AND MADE HIM GO AWAY! _AND_ YOU HAD THE GALL TO PROMISE ME THAT YOU HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH IT. _NOTHING_. I NEEDED _HIM_!"

Helena exhales, and shuts her eyes as Eleanor shouts at her. It just keeps coming and coming and then a year's worth of bottled up emotions keep on falling from her mouth, directed at her mother, beyond the whole situation of Jasper leaving. She's got so much locked up. Because of _her_. Because of her repeatedly telling her to never show proper emotion, because it would make her look weak, and people aren't supposed to feel bad for a Princess.

Eleanor's not weak because of her apparent lack of emotion. She's weak because of _her_.

Then her feelings about her betrayal with Jasper come flying out.

Her years and years of verbal abuse and blatant neglect.

The favouritism of Robert and Liam over her, her only goddamn daughter.

All of it.

"YOU KNEW THAT I WAS IN LOVE WITH HIM, MUM. _YOU KNEW IT_!" She finishes dramatically. She's red in the face from yelling so loudly, and she's slightly breathless.

"AND THEN WHAT, ELEANOR? WHAT WERE YOU GOING TO DO? STEP OUT WITH YOUR THIEVING AMERICAN BOYFRIEND? THE PRESS WOULD RIP _YOU_ TO SHREDS! I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU!" She finally shouts back, but it's falling on deaf ears. Her words have no merits to Eleanor right now.

"You don't get it. You _still_ don't get it. _Nothing_ makes me happy, mum. _Nothing_ , except for _him_ ," her voice has calmed down considerably, and she's shaking slightly because she's admitting it to herself in this moment, too. "You told me to choose love, mother. Do you remember that? Or did you conveniently forget that, too?"

Helena's fallen silent again, because she too remembers the talk that she and Eleanor had on her birthday.

"Now, get out of my room. Robert's already sanctioned the relationship, and when we're ready, Jasper _will_ accompany me whenever he can."

"Eleanor-"

"Get out, mother," she hisses. She's got tears streaming down her face, and she's sure she looks a fright. She's going to have to shower, change, and get dressed all over again and then put on a happy, princess face to go and pick Jasper up from work like the doting girlfriend she now is, apparently.

She's tired of fighting. Tired of fighting her feelings for Jasper. Tired of hiding him, and all of the progress they've made over these past few months from her family. She's done arguing with her mother over every bloody incessant thing she does.

 _It ends now._

Helena can sense the shift in her daughter, and for the first time in recent memory, she goes down without a fight, and exits the room as quickly as she came in.

Eleanor collapses into a nearby chair as a dry sob escapes her lips.

She's so, so tired.

At least now, they can all finally start to move on.

At least this time, she won't be doing it alone.

* * *

Jasper's asked her to meet him, and his unsuspecting co-workers, at a high-end pub that's close to the Secret Intelligence Services building along the Albert Embankment in Vauxhall. The walls are covered in a dark, high polished wood and dimly lit with soft lighting and candles on every table. It's aptly the kind of place that intelligence agents would congregate after hours over a few pints and air their grievances off the record to any journalists that may or may not be lurking about, too.

She's early, and she's told Hassan to leave her be. Considering that the place is crawling with other secret service agents, she's quite sure she's never been safer. So, he wastes no time finding some of his own mates from his time at MI5, and has settled into a booth with a pint of his own, leaving her at the bar by herself with nothing but a dirty martini and a silent mobile phone.

After the blow out with her mother, which she's conveniently _not_ told Jasper about, she had to have a drink of whiskey to take the edge off before she showered and readied herself for the evening. She's sure he wants to make a lasting impression so she's dressed herself in a pair of black leather leggings, half tucked dark blue blouse, and a pair of ankle stiletto boots. She's straightened her hair and kept her eye makeup to a minimum and is currently wearing a stylish wide brimmed burgundy hat that shades her face to complete the ensemble. If the bartender knows who she is, he's not giving it away.

He's probably seen enough, and heard enough shit go down in this pub. The fact that Her Royal Highness is currently drinking at his bar is nothing out of the ordinary.

Or so that's what she's been telling herself for the last twenty minutes, anyway.

Eleanor sighs, and checks her phone again. He told her to be there for six, and now it's shortly after. The bell on the door jingles, and she looks up as another group enters, all dressed in black suits, too- but he's not with them. She sighs again, louder, this time- and signals for the bartender to bring her another drink because she's drained the one she's been nursing.

He wordlessly swaps her martini out, and she slips him a tenner. He smiles gratefully and slips it into his pocket.

She likes this one. He's quiet. Doesn't ask questions. If Jasper's not here by her third, she's going to give him twenty quid.

The door rings again, and she doesn't bother looking up because she knows it's his group because she can hear a young, bright female voice at the helm of it and she's already cringing on the inside.

" _Jasper, can you get me a pint? I've left my wallet at the office."_

Eleanor's grip tightens on the stem of her glass as she slowly raises her head, and he's looking at her with a small, relieved smile on his lips.

"Excuse me, Paige," he says, narrowing his eyes and separates himself from the herd. Jasper makes his way toward her, and casually leans against the bar next to where she's sitting. " _Hey_."

"What's this?" She nods over his shoulder, eyebrows raised as the one called Paige- a girl slightly older than she- clearly an intern, by the looks of her- with her carefully dyed blonde hair and bright blue eyes, is looking at her with undiluted confusion. As if she can't figure out why the stunning man who had come in with her had just vacated _her_ side for some girl at the bar.

"So, _are_ you going to get her a pint?"

"I'd rather buy your next martini, if that's alright?" he murmurs, leaning forward to press his mouth to hers, purposefully slipping her a little too much tongue than what would be considered appropriate for such a venue.

She smiles wickedly against his lips.

"So your mysterious girlfriend _does_ exist, eh?" An unfamiliar male voice says from behind them as they part.

Eleanor straightens up, and Jasper steps aside so she can stand.

"She does," he confirms, placing his hand on her waist as the one called Paige joins the other four behind him. " _This_ is Eleanor."

"Bloody hell," a dark haired man says when he recognizes her face. Jasper's fingers tense in the small of her back.

"Freshly sanctioned, apologies for the delay," she says, extending her hand to shake his. "I understand that your respective spouses will be along shortly?"

"Yeah, Mia and Jane should be here any minute."

Paige is staring at her, as if she can't believe her eyes. That she's lost the man at the office she's been thirsting after for weeks to _the goddamn Princess._

"You're the Princess," she states.

"Yes," she says loftily, fighting the urge to roll her eyes. "Twenty three years and counting."

"You guys go grab a booth and we'll be along in a few," Jasper says easily, pulling her into his side. "I'll get some pints ordered," and then he turns to the barman and fires off a list of drinks, but she's not paying attention. She can't stop looking at him because she's not used to seeing him interact with others so easily.

"Do you need to piss on my leg too?" She asks innocently once they're alone.

"I missed you too," he murmurs, tightening his hold on her. His hand brazenly brushes over her behind. "You look _incredible_. We're not staying long."

"Good. Because I don't want to."

"Yours or mine?"

"Yours. Mum and I had a fight. I'll tell you _all_ about it later."

"I'm looking forward to it," Jasper replies dryly before he takes a long drink of the beer that's pushed across the bar toward him, and then leads her to a booth that's been built into an inlet in the wall. She slides in next to a previously unidentified woman, and Jasper flanks her other side, and weaves his arm across the back of the booth, around her shoulders possessively.

"Mia, this is Jasper's girlfriend, _Eleanor_."

Mia turns in her seat, and smiles brightly at her, her eyes crinkling at the edges.

"I _love_ your hat," she says. "Lovely to finally meet you."

"Likewise," she murmurs, hesitantly returning her smile. Her grip is tight on Jasper's leg under the table. Eleanor's not used to people being nice to her. Willingly.

"So, _Eleanor_ , what is it you do, _exactly_? What is it my taxes funding?" Paige asks, resting her elbows on the wooden table.

" _Paige_!"

"You can go online and read my family's expense reports," she replies coolly, dragging her hand further up his thigh. "Tomorrow, I'll be joining Robert at a transition house for women coming out of abusive relationships that my friend Imogen is heading. We'll be observing the progress that's been made in the six months that it's been open. _That_ is one of the initiatives that your _tax dollars_ are funding."

"You do work with the L.A. Scott Fashion House too, right?" Mia asks conversationally, sending a cautious glare at Paige.

"Yes," she confirms, and then pulls at her blouse. "This is one of theirs, actually. A young girl named Louise made it for me."

"Are you serious?!" She exclaims, taking a second glance at her top, _really_ taking it in.

Eleanor nods. "As long as she keeps her grades up, and stays out of trouble, we'll be sponsoring her to go to school for fashion design next year."

"Eleanor's very passionate about her work at L.A. Scott," Jasper interjects. "She's worked very hard to get it up in running in such a short period of time."

"Everyone deserves a second chance, right?" She whispers, looking down into her glass as her cheeks flame red.

She falls silent then, and contributes to the conversation when she can as the discussion moves away from her, to talk about what's been going on at the office and what they've been working on. There's suspicion of a terrorist cell working in Brixton, and they've been trying to tap into their lines and hack their computers remotely.

Jasper hasn't shared this information with her because he doesn't want her to get worked up, and she knows it. Eleanor's been hounding him for weeks for details about what he _actually_ does, and now she knows. If anyone's got a gift about hacking into someone's technology and deliberately invading a stranger's privacy, it's Jasper Frost. She knows it first hand, because he's done it to her.

Her hand is still on his knee under the table, and as this conversation progresses her grip progressively loosens to the point where she eventually removes it from his being entirely.

They've put him in a very specific department, it seems. With very specific duties. If his team uncovers _anything,_ anything at all, hundreds of lives are going to be saved.

And because of all the clauses and NDA's, no one will ever know that it's him. Or them. They'll all be protected, because on paper, it looks like they work in a very different environment.

If anyone deserves redemption, it's Jasper Frost. And he's finally got it. He's done a complete 180, career wise. He's putting his particular set of skills to good use. Finally.

Eleanor's proud of her brothers because they're her brothers, and they have their own accomplishments in their own right. Familial obligation. But this- what she's feeling in this moment as she listens to them heatedly discuss the week's findings- is something different. It's something she's rarely experienced because she doesn't let anyone in very often, and when she does, she it's even less common for her to find some sort of redeeming qualities about them because they've all just been just as lowly as she is herself.

No wonder he's been spending countless hours locked up in a room with nothing but a computer and all the access he could ever want, because he's been stopping threats against Great Britain. Against her family.

And she's had no idea. No one does.

Eleanor turns her head to look at him then, and he catches her eye, and then she smiles. There's nothing saucy about it. There aren't any sexual undertones. There is no ulterior motive.

"I love you," she murmurs quietly, making sure only he can hear her.

To him, it's like she's shouted it so loudly that the whole bar's gone silent, because her words echoing in his head. There's an odd ringing in his ears, because he can't remember the last time someone told him that they loved him, if ever.

And then he returns her smile, and it's brilliant. It's dazzling. There's no hidden intention, or lie behind it. There hasn't been for a very, very long time.

"As I love you," he breathes back against her ear. His fingers graze her shoulder, burning through the soft material of her top and into her skin. It's only been his touch that makes her feel like that. _Only his._

* * *

They stay for another two hours before they politely excuse themselves for the evening. Jasper places his hand possessively in the small of her back as she waves off Hassan. Jasper's got his own car now, and he's more than adept to drive her back to his flat, and return her to the palace in the morning, and he's made sure Hassan knows it.

As soon as they're outside, Jasper roughly pushes her into a side alleyway beside the pub and her back roughly hits the brick wall and he pushes himself up against her as he presses his mouth to hers so tightly it feels like he's trying to suck every bit of air out of her lungs.

It feels strikingly familiar, and not in a good way.

The last time he had her pressed against a wall like this, it didn't end well. Eleanor pushes on his chest, and he stumbles back from her, chest heaving. His jaw is slack as he stares at her, eyes searching hers for answers to what the hell is going on. She's never pushed him away before. Not once. Not even _before_.

It's only been him. And the last time he pushed her away was when-

Oh.

 _Oh._

* * *

" _The hell are you?" He demands from the nude girl in Eleanor's bed, not even bothering to hide his accent. His hand falls from his bow tie as she smirks seductively up at him, her breasts on full display to him in the early morning light._

 _This was not how it was supposed to be._

 _That goddamn bitch was punishing him. On purpose. Not that he didn't deserve it for the stunt that he just pulled on her down in the tunnel, or out on the balcony- but perhaps she might have shown him some mercy after admitting to her that there was no tape._

" _Where is Eleanor?"_

 _She tuts, and pulls the blanket up over her chest when she realizes that nothing is going to be coming from him to her._

" _Lenny just left for Monaco for the weekend with Liam and some others," she answers haughtily._

 _He presses his lips together firmly and leaves the room without a backward glance, slamming her bedroom doors behind him as he jogs down the hallway to the balcony that overlooks the front of the palace. He pulls the door open and steps out, just in time to see Eleanor, changed out of her party dress and into a light blue t-shirt and a pair of jeans. She sees him standing there and smirks, and then turns and gets into the waiting Bentley, and promptly drives away._

 _The Princess is leaving the country without him._

 _She's not supposed to go anywhere without him._

 _He's not sure if he's more concerned for her safety, or offended that she's still salty about what happened last night at the masquerade._

 _What the fucking hell? He quickly texts her._

 _She sees it, because he can see her read report. She has to have them turned on for safety reasons. She starts a reply and he's gripping the phone tightly in his hand as he watches the three small grey bubbles bounce on the screen._

 _But then they disappear, and she ignores him._

 _Eleanor! he types out._

 _She sees it._

 _No reply._

 _He sighs, and pockets his iPhone, and heads toward Ted's office. He should have known that she would do this. That she would set him up with her double, just to be spiteful. The way she gave in out on the balcony was just too easy. That she had accepted that he had been lying to her for the past six months._

 _Their whole relationship was built on a lie._

 _He sat down in one of the chairs in the small alcove outside her bedroom and put his head in his hands, and took a deep breath as it all suddenly clicked in his head._

 _The Princess' behaviour toward him over the past week had changed drastically. She was being nicer to him. She let him hold her at night, and kiss her awake in the morning- on more than just her mouth. She shared her morning tea with him, and only asked once what he took in it before she committed it to memory and made it just the way he liked while he collected his suit from various parts of her bedroom. She wasn't as icy. She touched him, when nobody was looking._

 _He had changed toward her, albeit unconsciously, over the past few weeks, so it was only natural that she would thaw out. Telling her to have a good day. Slipping his hand into the small of her back, just a little lower than what would be considered proper for someone whom was just her bodyguard. Snuck her in a Cadbury Double Decker candy bar once because she said they were her favourite, but she wasn't allowed to have sugar very often._

 _So it made sense that she would make a move on him last night- because he had been acting like her goddamn boyfriend._

 _Eleanor flourished under kindness._

 _And he pushed her away because he panicked. Told her that there wasn't anything. That she wasn't the one in control. That this- this messed up game he was playing with her- was not a relationship. That's not what that was._

 _The look on her face-_

 _And it was all his fault._

 _So, of course she would go to Monaco without telling him. If he accompanied her it would be a disaster, for both of them because he knows damn well he wouldn't be able to handle the sight of her wet and in a skimpy bikini. And he definitely wouldn't tolerate some French bastard's slimy hands on her, either, because she belonged to him, and only him._

 _And that was why he needed to get out._

 _He couldn't get to get attached to her._

 _She was a goddamn Princess._

 _He was a piece of shit con artist from Las Vegas._

 _Jasper ran his fingers through his hair, and sighed loudly as he took one last longing look at her closed bedroom door, and headed down towards Ted's office._

 _Ted's alone, and seething when he enters his office. Jasper raised his eyebrows as the latter sits behind his desk, typing furiously away on his computer._

" _Is this a bad time?" He asked carefully._

" _No. Come in. What can I do for you, Mr. Frost?" Ted asks, not looking away from the screen._

 _He takes a deep breath. "I need a transfer. I can't … I can't deal with her anymore, Mr. Pryce."_

 _That captures his attention, finally. Ted meets his gaze, and he can tell that the older man's trying to get more of a reason out of him because he knows that Eleanor is more than just a handful. The attitude. The drugs. The parties, just to name a few._

" _Any particular reason?" He asks carefully. "I thought you and the Princess were getting on well. Surprisingly."_

 _Jasper shook his head, and rested his elbows on the desktop. "You know what she's like. You can only watch one person say and do so much shit before it starts getting to you."_

 _He chuckles. Because he damn well knows because she's watched her grow up into what she is today. And it was a frighteningly fast transition from being sweet little Eleanor to the trainwreck she is now. "I'll take a look around and see where we can put you. The Princess is in Monaco for the weekend, so you're off duty until Monday, anyway. It's going to take a few days to get your transfer sorted, so you'll have the following week off for compassionate leave to get your bearings back. You're not the first to come here and ask for a transfer from her, Frost. She's a hard one to deal with. Don't take it personally. A shame, really."_

" _I won't, thank you."_

" _Is there anything else?"_

" _No, thank you," he repeated, and rose to his feet, and shook his hand, and left without another word._

 _He headed back down to his room to shower and change and catch a few hours of sleep before vacating the palace. Everything in it reminded him of her. Every. Damn. Thing._

* * *

 _Five hours later, he's standing in her now vacant bedroom, taking it in one last time, because he's going to be gone and reassigned by the time she comes back. It'll be easier to blame it on her to Samantha and Si, because Eleanor's got a proven track record for going through bodyguards like nobody's business. He fucked up. It's not a lie. The Princess just matters more to him now. Nothing's been as important to him, ever._

 _He'll have to abandon the con because of this, and he'll take the fall for it. But he'll be able to stay in London, and stay close to her. Jasper will give her a few days to calm down and get over it because she will and that's what she does._

 _His phone rings in his pocket and he pulls it out, and his heart skips a beat when he sees Eleanor's name flash on the screen. He quickly unlocks it, and frowns when he sees that she's sent a video._

" _Hello, Jasper," Eleanor croons seductively into the camera. "Thank you for admitting that you never actually had a sex tape of me."_

 _She rustles then, and he sees that she's in nothing but a thin black bra, sitting astride a shirtless, dark skinned man whose face he cannot see. His grip on his phone tightens when he realizes that she's going to kiss him._

" _And now you do."_

 _She abruptly cuts it off then, just as he sees her soft, thin lips press against another man's._

 _He's fuming._

" _Looking for something?" The Queen of England- her mother- has suddenly entered the room, and he's been caught._

 _Little does she know, he very well he is._

 _In more ways than one._

* * *

He stares at her, chest heaving, because she knows that he knows _what_ exactly is going through her head right this second. "It's not like that, Eleanor. This isn't a _game_. I promised you, no more games. Don't let your head go there."

"I-I'm sorry," she whispers, and he pulls her into his arms. "It just brought back _that_ memory from that night and-"

"I won't push you away, Len. You know I won't."

Eleanor can't look away from the intensity of his gaze, no matter how much she wants to. His clear blue eyes are penetrating her to her very core and she feels like she can actually see how much he adores _her_ in that moment.

 _Her. Every single fucked up inch of her, inside and out._

"Come on. We're going _home_." He says urgently. And then he's pulling her back onto the cobblestone sidewalk, back towards his office building where he's got the car in a secured underground car park.

He unlocks his Mercedes from across the lot and then they're inside, and he's ripping out of the building and onto the street going ten times faster than he ought to be. She should be worried, but she's not. He's never been so urgent like this to get her back to his place unless he's going to-

 _Oh_.

Eleanor smiles at him then, but it's too dark for him to see because he's so focused on the road.

"Jasper," she says his name carefully, keeping her eyes trained on him; her smile has curled down into a seductive smirk and she's sure he'd run off the road if he saw the way she was looking at him right now. She wants to confirm her theory.

"Yes?"

" _I love you."_

His grip tightens on the steering wheel, and he braces himself against the back of his seat. But still, he won't look at her.

But she _knows_.

* * *

She's on him the second they're safely locked in his flat. His keys slip from his hands and clatter loudly to the floor as his hands tightly grip her waist as she feverishly kisses him. His face is sporting a decent shadow and she can't stop touching it. It feels so good against the soft skin of her palm; it bears a striking resemblance to their personalities and maybe that's why she likes it so much.

Regardless, now isn't the time to be getting philosophical.

Jasper pulls her shirt out from her trousers and slides his cool hands up her bare back, holding her against him as his lips finally disconnect from hers and begin a slow trail down her neck, and across her decollage before moving back up again.

She's breathing heavily in his ear and she wants him to be inside of her so goddamn much it's almost painful.

"Fuck me," she whispers hoarsely into his ear, holding his head in place against her neck. "Fuck me right here, Jasper. I can't wait anymore. _Please."_

He makes a sound deep in his throat before he speaks. "Who am I to deny a direct order from the Princess?"

His eyes don't leave hers as he slowly undoes his belt, and then the button on his trousers, and then he slowly lowers his zipper. She wishes she wore a skirt. A dress. Something that came off easier than these damn leather pants that stick to her like they're a second skin because she can't wait to have him inside of her. She doesn't know how or with whom he honed that particular set of skills, but _fuck_. He could be everywhere on her at once and it felt so, so good every fucking time. She cursed her traitorous body, once upon a time because sex was one of the few things she had complete and total control of in her life. It was something that her mother wasn't able to dictate because Eleanor never wanted a love life because her mother could bloody control that, too.

All of it changed the second she let him into her bed.

She knew, even before the whole thing started- that there wasn't something quite right about her new detail. But she ignored it. And now here they are, nearly two years later. No one has ever willingly put so much effort into her wellbeing as Jasper Frost has.

Eleanor hooks her fingers into the belt loops on her pants, and then tugs them down, kicking off her boots in the process, never once taking her eyes off of his in the process. She straightens up, and then he moves to hold her. His hands rest on her hips, before sliding behind and easily lifts her up, and presses his hips against her own, effectively pinning her against the wall of his small entryway, right next to the coat rack. Hardly the ideal place to be shagging someone of her status.

But then again, Eleanor's no ordinary Princess.

His mouth easily descends down on hers as he roughly shifts her against the wall, forcing her to wrap her legs around his narrow waist, and then he blindly slips himself inside of her body as if he's done it hundreds of times.

In hindsight, he probably has. Not that she's going to complain.

Jasper's resting his forehead against hers, and his eyes are closed and his breathing is laboured, because this time is different than all the rest, and the raw emotion of this moment is overwhelming. It's all out there. All of their sordid past, the hurt, the manipulation, the lies, the games- all of it. And she's still there. He's still here.

Her breath's coming out in short, quick pants because all she can feel is _him_. Inside her. Outside of her. Everywhere.

"Jasper," she breathes, her voice sounds surprisingly horse. Eleanor's fingers slip into the closely-cropped hair on the back of his head, and pulls. His lips form into a smirk, and his bright blue eyes are shining with desire as she leans forward and presses her lips to his, easily slipping her tongue past his lips and slowly kisses him. And then he moves in slow, languid thrusts against her.

She hates it slow. Always has, and so has he. Why drag out something that is going to have such a euphoric end result?

They can do slow later.

He holds her in place firmly against him, and his grip is tight on her hips. She knows that he won't let her fall. That's the last thing she's worried about right now. He's done worse to her in far worse places. Jasper's breath is hot and heavy against her ear.

"I love you, _Eleanor_ ," he whispers. His tone is careful, but confident. It's a word she doesn't just throw around.

He's never used it. Ever.

It's still overwhelming for him, and he'll have to tell her another sad story about his life. He doesn't want her to have high expectations and she knows that he isn't one to show outward emotion. Especially in public. Hell, she was surprised he had even kissed her in the pub earlier.

She scratches the back of his head and he makes a noise in his throat and then he finally picks up his pace against her, and she smirks against his neck, baring her teeth slightly against his earlobe, and he hisses. She knew he wouldn't be able to keep up the facade of slow lovemaking for very long.

Jasper Frost is no gentleman.

He's got England's Princess pressed up against his wall, and he's furiously pounding into her.

Not that she cares.

He certainly doesn't seem to mind.

"Fuck," he grunts into her neck, " _Len, I'm so close_ -"

"Come in me," she says back without hesitation, tightening herself around him purposefully. He groans into her neck again at her words. He always did like it when she talked during intercourse. " _Let go, Jasper._ "

And then he does. He's gripping her so tightly and moving so fast she can't help but let it go, too. She's slack against him but he's leaning against her so she doesn't fall down, because if he pulls back, she's going to crumble to the floor in a heap of limbs, breathless and spent.

She catches her breath, kisses his chin, and slowly untangles her stiff legs from around his hips. He slowly sets her down, and he's staring at her like he's never seen her this way before. Eleanor slumps back against the wall, her breathing heavy. Her legs are stiff, and the junction between her thighs is sticky and she knows that it's going to become very disgusting and uncomfortable if she doesn't get herself cleaned up soon.

* * *

Jasper's in the shower and she's lying on her stomach, in the middle of his bed wearing nothing but one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxer shorts, rolled up several times so they fit her somewhat properly. She's never been able to put on weight, no matter how hard she's tried. No matter what she eats. She's long, delicate, and thin, much like her mother, but without the massive rack.

Eleanor's scrolling through her social media and e-mails from Rachel, telling her that she's got to attend a dinner with her family tomorrow night because there's some new Head of State coming to visit the Prime Minister, so they're going to put the Royal Family out for show and tell for good measure for a couple of days. Something about letting the Americans know what they're missing out on or some other nonsense. So she'll put on a pretty dress and a pretty tiara and pretend that she's a nice, well informed girl who keeps abreast with what's happening across the pond.

She could bring Jasper, technically.

Liam's likely going to bring Willow.

Robbie will go stag because he's not into dating right now until he's got his ' _Kingly shite_ ' together, and God knows when that's going to happen.

And her mother couldn't say a bloody thing about it.

The thought of Jasper in a suit, standing next to her, sitting at her side at dinner, engaging dignitaries in conversation, _being photographed_ \- it all seemed daunting. He'd get stared at because of his American accent. Asked where he came from. What he did. How they met. What's a common blood American citizen doing with a Princess like her. She can practically hear the whispers, and nothing has even been announced yet.

All anyone with half a brain needed to do was look at his face for more than a second to see why she liked him so goddamn much. It was almost revolting how goodlooking Jasper Frost was. But, she supposed, he would be graced with good looks because his insides were so fucked up beyond belief. He was a lot more than just a pretty face.

She knew how to handle him because she was stubborn, selfish, and fucked up herself.

When push came to shove, they were a lot alike.

She hears the shower abruptly shut off, but she pays it no mind as she sighs, and locks her phone and curls into the fetal position in the centre of his bed. It's a lot more firmer than what she's used to and he still won't bloody get new pillows, despite her numerous complaints. Instead he tells her, every time she complains, that the last time he checked he wasn't running a hotel so if she wanted to have new pillows she damn well better go buy them herself.

Eleanor's never purchased a pillow in her life. She wouldn't know where to get one, even if she wanted to.

Jasper's whistling some tune to himself in the bathroom as he dries off, on purpose, because he knows it gets on her nerves. She huffs loudly, and rolls onto her back and picks her phone up again as it starts buzzing next to her, signalling she's got a text from Liam.

 _Mum's spitting fire, Robbie's got a big shit-eating grin on his face. What did you do?_ He asks.

 _Brought someone home,_ she alludes, but doesn't offer anything further.

 _Without telling me? Who?_ He's quick with his replies now.

 _You bloody know who,_ she types as the door on the far side of the room opens up. _Can't chat now, will talk tomorrow._

Eleanor looks up over her phone to see him leaning against the doorframe, wearing nothing but a small white towel around his waist.

"What?" She snaps, meeting his gaze.

"You look good in my clothes," he comments, eyeing her appreciatively. "Who knew."

"Yes, well," Eleanor says airily, directing her attention back to her phone. She can't keep staring at him like he's a piece of Greek-made meat. _She can't._

But then he drops his towel, and she drops her phone seconds later, because he's dragging his shorts down her legs.

She's tired, but she'll never be too tired of _this._


	10. The Big Exit

**A/N:** Thank you all for your reviews- I love reading them, and it was especially great to come home to them yesterday because I got laid off- so all of the time to focus on this now! I'm so sorry that this is 7400+ words but I needed it all in one chapter because the next few can't be broken up. Hope you're all sat down. Enjoy! :)

* * *

 **Chapter 10: The Big Exit**

* * *

" _So, how's it going?" Samantha says into the webcam. "I haven't heard from you since Fashion Week, Jasper. What gives?"_

" _Sorry," he groans, rubbing his face tiredly with his hands. "I've been so fucking busy Samantha."_

" _Doing what? Unlocking that diamond?" She sneers, but he knows she doesn't mean it. He can see her playful, seductive expression in the harsh afternoon Vegas light streaming in through the window behind her._

" _Not yet. I told you I don't get those clearances until after the probationary period is up in three weeks. And then I'll be trained on how to access the systems. Once I've got that down, and a video loop recorded, it's all about just waiting for the sweet spot to get the diamond."_

" _And getting your dick wet in the Royal Beaver seems to be helping you pass the time just fine. You're less high strung lately, babe. I never thought I'd see this day."_

" _Well, having sex multiple times a night with a coke head takes it out of you," he fires at her, not bothering to take the edge out of his voice. He doesn't like the way Samantha talks about Eleanor like she's some slutty piece of trash. She doesn't know her, not one bit._

 _The Princess has slowly been opening up to him over these past few months. She too, is less high strung. He taunts her and tells her it's his dick putting her in such a good mood, but he knows better. Things are finally returning to what he assumed was a 'normal' routine around the palace, but something- someone- is clearly missing from Eleanor._

 _She gets up sometimes in the middle of the night, and doesn't come back for hours on end. Other times she comes back just before daybreak, just before the palace comes to life. Torn between curiosity and concern, he followed her one night. She always ends up a few corridors away, in another one of the bedrooms._

 _First, he thought she was doing it to get away from him, and then paid it no mind. Her bed was insanely comfortable and with her gone there was more room for him to sprawl out._

 _And then he found out whose room it was. Or had been, rather._

 _Prince Robert's._

 _That was a whole other thing he hadn't planned on dealing with. There couldn't have been a worse time for him to be assigned to her. She'd just lost her best friend and older brother. She had several acquaintances, but none of them cared enough to be her friend._

 _They were sympathetic to her situation. And then promptly shoved lines of cocaine at her to get her to forget._

 _And then there was him. He was supposed to be the one protecting her. Making sure that she didn't get in trouble, or get herself killed. Instead he lied about making a sex tape with her and had been blackmailing her with it for the past two months, and fucking her senseless on the side, too._

 _There was no bigger bastard on this Earth than him, in this moment._

" _Yeah, she seems like a real piece of work," Samantha comments as she looks at her phone. "I've got to go. Call me later," she instructs, and then disconnects their video chat._

 _Groaning, he rubs his face tiredly and falls back into his pillows. He hates sleeping in the staff wing. It's so uniform and there's nothing of it that feels like home. Everything is at a literal standstill until he gets his security clearances upgraded to full access, and then he can put the next phase of his plan into motion._

 _There's thirty million dollars on the line here and he'd be damned if the Princess somehow figured it out and fucked it up for him. He'd never see that kind of money in his life, ever again, and she had it. Eleanor Henstridge had no fucking idea how good she had it. She didn't deserve it. She certainly had not earned it, either. He's sure the public would just fucking love to know that their beloved Princess Eleanor was blowing hundreds of thousands of dollars of their tax dollars a month on illegal substances._

 _His dick twitched at the mere thought of her. Every inch of her body is goddamn perfect. It almost hurts to look at her long, thin body as her porcelain skin shines in the moonlight. Her long, raven hair has red undertones that shine in the sunlight. She's goddamn beautiful. And she's all his. Jasper tries not to think about how Her Royal Highness honed her bedroom talents, but he's thankful she did because no one has ever given him head like she does._

 _He draws his bottom lip between his teeth at the memory of her on her knees before him in her vanity chair. She was dirty, and she liked it rough. She goddamn moaned every time he hit the back of her throat and-_

 _He'd be a fool if he didn't get his ass up to her room right now. She was always ready and willing for him. Always. Because she might sass him and be the biggest bitch on the planet, Eleanor knew he was a good lay and she always got what she wanted out of him, too._

 _If he was going to be taking that diamond from her soon, he was going to get as much time in with that glorious pussy as he could because once he goes through with the con, he's going to have to disappear forever. He'd never be able to hit that ever again._

 _He'd never be able to see her again._

 _But he's not going to think about that right now._

 _Jasper tosses his laptop next to him on the bed and slipped out of his room, intent on making his way to hers. He usually spends a few nights a week at his flat to rotate his wardrobe out and to get the hell away from her attitude and decompress, but lately she's got such a goddamn hold on him that he hasn't been able to get away._

 _Ten minutes later he's outside her door. He stands for a second, listening for movement to see if she's still up, but it's silent. He slowly pushes open the doors, and the lights are on but she's nowhere to be found. Her coke bag is sitting unopened on her coffee table next to a half drunk bottle of vodka._

 _He checked his watch, and it's shortly after one in the morning. He knows exactly where she is._

 _He rounds back to Prince Robert's room, and slowly pushes the door open. He hates coming in here. It makes him uncomfortable because he knows that Prince Robert was a good man that died far too soon, and he's going to rob his sister blind in a matter of months._

 _Sure enough, Eleanor's curled up on the sofa at the foot of the bed, fast asleep. He knows she can't stay there all night. She's been caught there before by her mother and it didn't end well._

 _This night isn't going to go the way he wants it to, not by a long shot._

 _Sighing, he finally crosses the threshold and slowly approaches her. She's out cold. Her cheeks are flushed, and it's obvious that she's been crying. His heart clenches in his chest as he looks at her. Eleanor looks far younger than her twenty one years. She looks like the furthest thing from the Princess she is._

 _He sometimes has to remind himself that she's only human, too._

 _Jasper bends down and carefully lifts her up into his arms, and she sighs in her sleep, and curls into his chest, wrapping an arm around his shoulders, and buries her face in the crook of his neck. He unconsciously tightens his hold on her._

" _I miss him, Jasper," she whispers. "I miss him so much."_

 _He doesn't say anything as he closes the door with his foot, and carries her back down to her own bedroom. She hasn't been frequenting Robert's bedroom as often as she was, but she still ends up there regardless at least once a week. And every time he has to make sure he's up in time to get her out of there before someone catches her._

 _He knows she's not fully awake because if she were she wouldn't be saying things like that. Especially to him._

 _Eleanor isn't one to wear her emotions on her sleeve. Though, if his mother spoke to him the way hers speaks to her, he probably wouldn't either. His mother has spoken to him many a time like the Queen does to her daughter, but at least she fucking tried to act like a mother once in awhile. Usually around the holidays when the guilt started to settle in._

 _Jasper rounds the corner to her room and he breathes a sigh of relief when he sees that he's left her door open a crack. He wordlessly pushes it open, and kicks it shut before crossing her room in four strides to carefully deposit the Princess in her own bed. He unwinds her arm from his neck, and smooths her hair out of her face before straightening up._

 _He's not going to get any tonight. He can't. Not with her like this._

" _Don't go." She whispers, curling into her blankets. She doesn't look at him, and he's not entirely sure she's awake and knows what she's saying. To him, at least._

" _If that's what you want," he murmurs, extinguishing the lights around the room before he slowly peels off his black slacks and white button down, leaving them in a heap at the foot of her bed before climbing into the cool sheets next to her._

 _She's not his girlfriend. She's supposed to mean nothing to him. But seeing her like this- she looks so goddamn small, and he's got somewhat of a heart in his chest so he pulls her into his side, and rests his chin on the top of her head, holding her to him. She's tense, but she doesn't pull away. It's awkward. He's never held her like this before because she's never let him. He's never wanted to._

 _He's never been like this with her, but clearly she's trying to work through some shit in her head tonight, so the least he can do is hold her for one night and act like he gives a shit about her well being._

 _Because he does._

 _A bit._

 _Technically._

 _Jasper supposes that's what happens when you're forced to spend hours on hours with someone every day. Stockholm Syndrome, or something._

" _They said it was a military accident, and they're being awfully vague about the circumstances," she said finally, speaking out into the darkness. Her voice quivers with each word. "Robert's jet crashed into the sea, but when they retrieved it, there were no visible signs of malfunction. I was supposed to call him the night before, Jasper. I was supposed to call, and we were going to talk because we haven't talked properly in ages, and he said he was looking forward to it. And I went and got shitfaced in Paris instead."_

 _His grip on her shoulder tightens. So this is the weight she's been carrying around for the past few months. Regardless, whatever happened to her brother wasn't her fault, and he's sure no one has told her that yet._

" _It's not your fault, Princess," he whispers back, pressing his lips into her hair. "None of this is your fault."_

 _His words hold a double meaning that she'll never know. Not for some months down the road, anyway._

 _It doesn't matter what he says to her now, because she's on the opposite side of the bed, as per usual, curled up on her side the next morning. She kicks him out of her room so she can get dressed and get ready for the day, because she too, can pretend that the few tender moments that transpired between them last night never happened._

 _He's not her boyfriend, they're not in a relationship._

* * *

Jasper's got a vice-like grip on her waist and his alarm is going off, and he's not moving an inch. She can't move. Something is going to get hurt or thrown soon if he doesn't shut the goddamn thing off.

"Jasper, so help me god-" she says through gritted teeth as she tries to pry his fingers off of her.

"Mm, good morning baby," he groans into her ear, stretching his hard, naked body up against the length of hers before he reaches around her, and shuts off the alarm and it's shrewd beeping finally fucking stops.

Eleanor rolls onto her back, groaning as she takes the pillow she's been using and throws it across the room, hitting the closet door. She can feel his eyes on her as the sheet falls down.

"Reign it in, Frost. There's no time. I need to go home."

"You're going to make me go to work with an erection?"

"That's exactly what I'm going to do, yes," she fires at him as she swings her legs over the side of the bed, and pulls on his nearby shirt and pulls the hem, attempting to cover her ass. But she's too tall and her attempts are futile. She huffs loudly, and then throws open the door and then purposefully thunders down the narrow staircase to collect her discarded pants from the night before. She can't find her knickers, but she's got a sneaking suspicion as to where they went. She hates the feeling of leather on her bare skin but she's going to have to deal with it for now. "Are you going to get out of bed, or do I have to call Hassan to pick me up?"

"I'll drive you back, for fuck sakes, Eleanor," he shouts back down the staircase. She hears the bed groan as he finally gets out, and then starts shuffling around the room, getting ready for the day. She finds her discarded blouse and bra in the sitting room and takes off his t-shirt and dresses in last night's clothes, before slowly making her way back up the stairs to his bedroom.

"Do you need me to buy you a _coffee_ , since you're incapable of getting your own?" She inquires innocently, leaning against the doorframe, watching him dress in a pair of navy slacks and white shirt with a matching tie. "I can put in a good word, you know. If they're not paying you enough."

"You've got to let that go, babe," he sighs, meeting her eyes in his mirror as he ties his tie. She raises her eyebrows at the endearment. He's rarely called her something like that before. He raises his right back, challenging her. Eleanor sighs, rolls her eyes, and looks away as she continues to move about the room, gathering her possessions.

Twenty minutes later they're in his car and she sends a text to Hassan letting him know that Jasper is returning her to the palace, and she'll be coming in 'round back to avoid the crowds at the front so he better be at the back doors waiting for her.

It takes them nearly an hour to get across town because of the morning traffic, and because there's been an accident on the freeway which put them at a standstill for at least half an hour, to the point where they sit in a comfortable silence in his car, smoking cigarettes with the windows rolled down to pass the time, until finally he pulls up to the back, gated entrance of the palace and is let through without incident.

"So am I allowed back in here after work, or what?" He says as she leans across the centre console. She pulls back, her face forming into a perfect scowl.

"You damn well know you are, don't be such a bloody git," she snaps, and then roughly presses her lips to his. He smirks, bites her bottom lip, and then he grabs the back of her head and it quickly turns heated to the point where his hand is resting just above-

"Get out, I'm going to be late for work." He says, straightening out in his seat. " _That's_ for this morning."

"Go fuck yourself," she mutters, and unfastens her seatbelt and then gets out. Jasper's tearing down the drive as soon as the doors slammed shut.

She gives him the finger just as he hauls out of the gates. He honks in retaliation before he disappears around the corner.

"Son of a bitch," she mutters to herself, and turns to go inside. Hassan's waiting for her just inside the doors.

"Good morning, Your Highness," he greets casually. She doesn't break her step, and he easily falls into stride with her.

"Where are they?" She demands. She doesn't have to elaborate; he knows damn well whom she's referring to.

"Your brothers are still eating breakfast."

Eleanor nods her understanding, and heads off towards the dining room. She can hear Robbie and Liam arguing very loudly and very heatedly over football scores before she even reaches the doors. Rolling her eyes, she dramatically bursts through the door.

"Well, well, well," Liam calls out, abruptly stopping mid conversation with their brother. "Look who decided to finally grace us with her presence, _Robbie_."

"Careful, Lenny. Tardiness is frowned upon around here. You get breakfast, mum gets dinner. That's the agreement since you're apparently no longer on speaking terms."

"Well maybe if she kept her nose out of my goddamn business for once in her bloody life we wouldn't have this problem. _Remind me why I live here again?!"_

"Fraternizing with the plebs will give you an edge, it seems. Must be all that pauper dick you've been getting, aye?" Robert interjects as she sits across from Liam, her face forming a perfect scowl as she pulls the kettle of tea toward her, and methodically fixes herself a mug. "That attitude needs to be adjusted, Lenny. It's not very _becoming_."

"I'd make a comment about your sex life, _Your Majesty_ , but that would imply that you have one, and I've been trying not to lie as of late."

"She's got you there, bro," Liam chimes in, taking a drink of his tea.

Robert bristles, and turns his attention back to his paper, because he's got no taunt to fall back on when it comes to his sex life, or lack thereof.

"And don't think you're off the hook, either, _bruv_ ," she fires at Liam, lifting her mug to her lips and narrowing her eyes at him. "What did he promise you? The Dukedom of York? Our summer house once in Wales you pop the question to Willow?"

"Get off it, Lenny," he snaps back. "That's none of your business, _Your Highness_. He deserved to know about Jasper. Just because you've got a shady history with him doesn't mean the rest of us do. And I'm glad you worked it out because he _does_ care about you. He always has."

"He wanted to knock my teeth out last night when she brought him home the other night, I could tell." Robert comments, not looking up from the article he's reading. "I don't know where you find these blokes, Lenny. The face on him almost turned _me_. He's giving _Beck_ a run for his money."

"Got something you'd like to tell us, Robbie?"

"Hush up, I'm _just_ saying," he groans, rubbing his face, and loosens his black tie, and then checks his phone for the time. "I have a meeting with Parliament. Bye. Make good choices and that. Go make up with Mum, for christsakes."

Robert then rises to his feet, drains his coffee cup, and slips his dark blue suit jacket on- complete with a small pin of the Union Jack, and runs his hands through his hair. Parliament was skeptical about letting him ascend the throne so quickly after his return, but Liam had told a few members of the House of Lords in not so many words that it was either that, or they continue to put up with Cyrus' reign. If they wanted Cyrus gone, then they had to put Robert on the throne as soon as possible. His first order of business as King had been to have the blood of his brother and sister retested, and it turns out that they were in fact, genetic matches to the Henstridge family line, which if Robert had been dead like he was supposed to be, meant that Liam was the Prince Regent the whole bloody time, thus, rendering Cyrus' reign as King invalid.

He had left on his own free will, given the state of his illness, and lived out his last three months of his life at Windsor Castle. There had been no state funeral, and Eleanor didn't even attend the small ceremony that was held in the Palace's chapel before he had been interned with the rest of their ancestors.

Regardless, in this moment, Robert is a great King. The people loved him, and he opened their home to them because he believed in transparency. Like Liam, he wanted their monarchy to be relevant again. To be a good influence, so they'd all been focusing on social programs unique to their interests. Legal ones, anyway. They had a plan, and finally, it was working.

"Do I have something stuck in my teeth?" Robert asks her carefully, breaking her out of her reverie. She hadn't realized that she'd been staring at him.

"Like I would tell you," she says without hesitating, but then smiles. "No, I was just thinking about how far you've come. How far we've all come."

"We'd be a lot farther along if you and mum weren't at each other's throats."

"I'll talk to her, _fine_ ," Eleanor groans, setting her teacup down on the table with a loud clatter.

"And we've got that dinner tonight too, so they'll be arriving at four. Will _Mr. Frost_ be joining us?"

"I haven't spoken to him about it, so no," she says dryly. "He works until six tonight."

" _Working_? He does know he doesn't need to _work_ here, right?" Robert says dryly and buttons his jacket, and sticks his hands in the pockets as his personal secretary, John, comes into the room to retrieve him.

"He wants to work, Robbie. Drop it. Get out of my sight before I test the limits of my diplomatic immunity."

"Invite him to the after party, then," he replies. "No cameras. Everything is off the record."

" _Fine_ ," she mumbles, and pulls out her mobile.

 _Robbie just invited you to the after party for that dinner tonight, which is just boasting about our country over liquor and cigars. Black tie._ She sends quickly, ignoring her twin brother across from her as she slumps back down into her seat.

 _I'll be there. Heading into a meeting._ He replies, and she sighs, and turns off the screen, and raises her eyes to Liam's.

"Just get it out of your system," she sighs.

"I've got nothing more to say," he raises his hands up in defence. "Honestly, Lenny. You deserve happiness the most."

A small smile spreads on her lips, and she rises to her feet, and walks around the table, and he gets up to embrace her tightly. She still hasn't completely forgiven him for blabbing about her past with Jasper because it wasn't his story to tell, but she's feeling so goddamn euphoric for the first time in recent memory, she's willing to look past it, this one time.

"You'd do well to keep your mouth shut in the future, Liam," she instructs as she embraces him. He holds her tightly.

"We'll see. So, is he coming?"

"Yes."

"Good. I missed having him around here."

* * *

It's shortly after three in the afternoon, and she needs to start getting ready. But first, she dresses in a new pair of lace black knickers and stands in front of her mirror with her arm slung across her chest, and snaps a photo and sends it to Jasper.

 _That's nice,_ he replies. _They'd look better on the floor._

 _Take a good look, because that's as close as you're getting to them,_ she sends back.

He's seen it, but doesn't reply.

She turns around, pulls her long hair over her shoulder, leaving her long back and barely covered ass fully exposed to him in her mirror, and sends that too.

He sees it, and then he finally starts replying. She bites her lip, waiting for what she's sure is going to be something smart-arsed response, at her expense.

 _The King said no nudes, Princess_. _Stop trying to solicit me._

Eleanor swears under her breath as she sets her phone down, and carefully puts on a matching bra, before turning to a rack of dresses that had been selected by her mother, and sent to her for final approval. Pursing her lips, she carefully examines each one before selecting a dark blue gown with elbow length sleeves, and a low back. She knew it'd match well with the Kokoshnik Tiara from the crown jewel collection. Anything silver always matched well against her long, dark hair, and her mother preferred the bigger, the better, so she would do well and she shut up and be grateful that she's even allowing something so showy to be placed on her head, and be photographed, for more than five minutes. She'd be wearing the bloody thing all night.

And into the night, she's sure, if Jasper gets his way. And she's not sure if she's going to continue punishing him for the incident from the car this morning, but she'll entertain the notion, regardless. He'll be spending the night and she can count on one hand the number of times they've just _slept_ in her bed.

Eleanor sends Rachel a quick message, instructing which pieces from the Crown Jewel collection she wants to wear for the evening. She'll keep it simple with a long, simple necklace encrusted with diamonds and a matching ring that she owns to offset the monstrosity that's going to be sitting on top of her head for the duration of the evening.

She's just putting the final touches on her makeup when there's a loud knock on her door. Frowning, she checks the time, and it's not time for her to go downstairs yet. She's still got another twenty minutes.

"What?" She barks, turning back to her mirror.

"The Crown Jeweler, Your Highness," Rachel calls through the door. "May we come in?"

"Fine," she calls, pulling her loose curls over her shoulders, and ensures that her silk dressing gown is still tightly shut.

Rachel pushes open the door, and she escorts the Crown Jeweler in, whose wearing a pair of black gloves and holding a black box containing the tiara so tightly she's sure he's going to give himself premature arthritis. Eleanor's not one to wear things out of the Crown Jewel collection, and given her previous careless nature, he's got every right to be nervous handing over such a priceless piece from her family's collection. Eleanor turns her body around in her chair, and smiles kindly.

"I'm not ready yet, but I can fix it in myself, thank you," she instructs. "I don't want it getting caught on my gown. I won't be leaving the palace, tonight, Harry. Nor will I be getting blackout drunk, and I haven't done _any_ drugs in approximately nine months, so you can pull that stick you've got up your ass out and go have a glass of scotch because I can see that you've been stressing about this from the second you found out that I wanted the Kokoshnik tonight."

Harry's jaw drops slightly, because he's not used to being spoken to in such a manner, especially by Her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor. Eleanor raises her eyebrows, challenging him to reply. But insteads, he remembers his place and bows to her, and carefully sets the box down on a nearby table.

"Prince Liam will be around to collect you in about fifteen minutes, Your Highness," Rachel informs her, and then they're both out of her bedroom as quickly as they've come.

She checks her phone again, but there aren't any messages. Sighing, she inspects her face one last time, before gracefully rising to her feet, and then heads back into her closet to finish getting ready. She's just putting on her shoes when Liam loudly knocks, and enters the room.

"Hello," he greets, sticking his arm out to her. She gets the hint, and extends her hand and he drops a diamond cufflink into her outstretched palm, and she screws it in for him, and then does the other seamlessly.

"You're so lucky," she sighs, lowering her arms, and turns to the box containing the tiara. "Help me put this goddamn thing on."

"Of course," he grins. "No kingship means no diadem. No coronet. No crown for me!"

"Fuck off, Liam," she sighs, and sits down in front of her vanity again, and begins fixing her hair the way she wants it to fall. Ultimately, she pins it back, so her curls are falling loosely down her bare back. Liam carefully lifts her tiara from its velvet pillow, and holds it carefully in his hands so his fingers aren't smudging the diamonds. His gaze meets hers in the mirror as he carefully places it on her head, and steps back as she quietly reaches up and fixes a few loose strands of hair.

"You look beautiful, Lenny," he sighs, looking at her. "You've been a lot better since you worked it out with Jasper. I'm glad you did. I see the way he looks at you, and he means _it_."

"He told Robert that he loved me," her gaze never waivers from his. She's careful not to cry, because she doesn't want to ruin her makeup. "He said that it scares him how much he loves me, Liam. _It scares him_."

"And do you love him?" Liam places his hands on the back of her chair.

"Yes," she chokes out. "It scares _me_ , Liam. Ever since the whole thing started- before Munich- I knew something was going to happen because nothing ever works out for me. _Ever_."

"And yet, here you are. I'm so glad you're happy, Lenny. Honestly. Nobody deserves it more than _you_."

"Thanks, bro," she smiles, and then rises to her feet, and Liam pulls her into a tight hug.

"Now, let's go, _Princess_. Time to play State Dinner with the Americans."

"Lead the way, _Prince_ Liam," she hooks her arm in his, and then they're off.

* * *

"Please rise for Their Royal Highnesses Prince Liam and Princess Eleanor Henstridge," the crier announces, and Liam unwinds his arm from hers, and she squares her shoulders. The double doors to the reception room open, she immediately sees Robert, dressed in full regalia, standing next to their mother by the sofa. The new American President, his wife, and their children are standing next to them, and the Prime Minister and his wife ae flanking their other side. There's various other members of government standing around the room, nursing glasses of cognac and other spirits.

"Well this looks like a lively bunch, yes?" She says under her breath, and then beelines for the bar that's been set up at the back of the room. She smiles broadly at Gordon, their usual barman. "You know what I like, Gordon."

"Whiskey, neat, coming right up, Princess," he winks, and turns away to fix her drink.

"Better fix one for Liam, too," she calls. "It's a boring bunch."

"You wouldn't want the wrong person hear you say that, Princess," a voice whispers smoothly in her ear. A hand snakes around her waist, lightly brushing over her exposed back. The hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge. "Someone might get the wrong idea about you."

"You're early, Jasper," Eleanor murmurs, and turns to face him.

"I left early. Told my boss that I had an invite from the King himself to the State Dinner tonight, since the Princess wasn't being so gratuitous," he explains. "He didn't believe me, and I would have shown him the text message, but the message thread was a little too _inappropriate_ to be showing other people. So, I'll just show him _The Daily Mail_ tomorrow."

"Make it three, Gordon," she calls, rolling her eyes.

"Of course, Princess," he calls back.

She takes him in, then. His hair is gelled to the side, and he's changed into a black tailored suit, and black skinny tie. His shirt is perfectly starched. He's shaved off the beard he had on that morning and he smells damn good.

"You look beautiful, Eleanor," he breathes. His breath fans over her face, and she's momentarily stunned. "Is it alright to kiss you, or is it going to cause an incident?"

"It will," she confirms, reaching up and takes hold of his jacket lapels. "But that's nothing new for me, isn't it?"

He smirks then, and carefully dips his head down to press a chaste kiss to her lips, before pulling back. Gordon clears his throat as he places three tumblers of whiskey on the bartop. She turns, and Jasper keeps his hand firmly planted in the small of her back. He reaches around her and picks up his glass, and then they both turn around. Sure enough, Helena, Robert, and Liam are watching them, while the others are looking cautious because they're not sure what's going on, because they don't _know_. They don't know about _Jasper_ and _Eleanor_. They don't know about the Princess and her bodyguard.

To them, he's nothing. He's nothing because he's got no military medals, or sashes stating he's got some sort of nobility backing him up.

His grip tightens on her waist at the thought, because they're _out._ No more hiding. No more sneaking out after dark.

Eleanor doesn't even want him in the same room as her mother, but she's going to tolerate it for tonight because of Robert. She had promised that she'd go and make up but she didn't get around to it because she felt that taking a nap was far more important than trying to make amends with the Queen. She's regretting it now because she can feel the ice from across the room. No one had told the Queen that Jasper Frost would be sitting beside her daughter at a highly publicised state dinner between two nations.

"Liam, thought you might want this," she announces, handing him the whiskey. He takes it from her, and takes a large gulp, meeting Jasper's gaze over the rim of his glass.

"Thank you, _Eleanor._ " He says, purposefully putting emphasis on her full name. She fights the urge to roll her eyes because they're all to be on their best behaviour tonight, and she's already used up all three strikes she's got going on by letting Jasper in, kissing him, and now bringing him to meet the Prime Minister.

"Princess Eleanor," he greets respectfully, and bows.

"Prime Minister. Mrs. Cliff," she acknowledges. "This is my _boyfriend_. Jasper Frost. He works in Secret Intelligence Services, Division Six," she explains.

"Mr. Frost," the Prime Minister acknowledges.

"Prime Minister," he says politely, extending his hand. His American accent shines through- and clearly the PM wasn't expecting that from the Princess' new beau. His eyebrows are raised, but he takes Jasper's offered hand and shakes it politely.

"And where is it you're from, Mr. Frost?" He asks cautiously.

"Nevada, sir. I've been living and working in the United Kingdom for the last five years."

"Jasper used to work in Royal Security," Liam says carefully, interjecting into the conversation as he shoots his mother a warning glare. "Very good friend of the family. He was an amazing asset to our security team during Cyrus' term, and stayed loyal to our family, and for good cause. Eleanor couldn't have chosen any better. Isn't that right, mum?"

"Yes," she says, a small smile playing on her lips. "Never once did I doubt his loyalty to our family. Mr. Frost's nationality has never been an issue before, and certainly will not matter now. He knows better than anyone how much this family values _professional_ _conduct_."

"Seems like a nice young chap," Robert chimes in as he joins their small circle, "now quit with the piss match, we're being rude to our lovely guests. I'd rather not spend the evening reinforcing an antisocial stereotype, thanks."

* * *

He's goddamn _perfect_. So it's only natural that she's infuriated because he charmed the trousers off of every single person in the room, particularly the handsy First Lady of the United States, who just conveniently was also from the Southwest, spent the better half of dinner reminiscing about her time at the University of Nevada, Las Vegas where she studied at the William Boyd School of Law. She was even more tickled to learn that Jasper was from Las Vegas, and then proceeded to monopolize even more of his time by quizzing him on various landmarks that Eleanor's never heard of, nor cared about, because Jasper doesn't like talking about his time there because it reminds him of his family, and _her_.

She's a bit less infuriated because he kept his hand firmly on her leg throughout dessert, rubbing small circles on her inner thigh with his thumb because he just fucking _knows_ how riled up she's getting while she's forced to talk about shopping with the Prime Minister's wife, because the only thing that they've got in common is the fact that they both like shopping on the high street and think that London needs less plebs and more high end stores.

The Prime Minister's wife is apparently a Reality TV junkie, and spent most of the dessert course- whilst on her fourth sherry- suggesting that maybe they- _the bloody Royal Family_ \- ought to do a reality show to bring over more tourists to help stimulate an already fragile economy.

Eleanor politely says she doesn't think that that's a good idea, given their busy schedules in the coming months that include a trip to the Dominions in Africa, and that their family is going to be publicized enough as it is.

She herself is on her third whiskey at that point, but unfortunately she's got a high liquor tolerance and a low one for this woman, so she politely excuses herself from the table to use the bathroom. And have a cigarette.

Eleanor purposefully drags her fingers along the collar of Jasper's shirt as she walks behind him.

Less than ten minutes later, Jasper's got her pressed up against the wall on the very same balcony he admitted to her that there was no sex tape on so many months ago. His lips are hot on hers and his mouth tastes like the chocolate mousse he just ate and the Hennessey he's been nursing all through dinner, and she can't get enough. His hand bunches the fabric of her dress high on her hip so his hand get under.

" _Every time I close my eyes, I see your fucking ass in those panties_ ," he breathes in her ear as his hand roughly hitches her leg high up on her waist, before his hand darts under her dress and gently caresses her hip, before fingering along the line of her panties.

"Yeah?" She's clearly breathless, and she's sure her lipstick is smudged. They can't go back. It's obvious that they've left together. Her mother's going to be infuriated but she's done her part and they can go visit during drinks later in the evening and make up for lost time then.

Jasper smirks against her neck, his tongue darting out to taste her, and she can't help but let a small, breathless moan fall out from between her lips.

And then she remembers that she wasn't supposed to be letting him touch her _this way_ because he had worked her up this morning in the car before kicking _her_ out. Then again, she had done the same to him even earlier in the morning when they had first woke up.

So once again, she was at an impasse with Jasper Frost.

And she knows that's why he's smirking into her neck right now because he thinks he's won.

"Do you remember what you told me about playing with my cards, Jasper?" She breathes into his ear, wrapping her hands tightly into his perfectly styled coif.

"Mm, remind me?" He whispers between kisses. She can feel how hard he is against her inner thigh, straining against the soft material of his trousers. As if his pants weren't tight enough.

" _Don't play your hand. Play your opponent's hand against them_."

His hand stills under her dress and his lips have stopped their assault on his neck as he realises that she damn well did not forget about their games from this morning. Eleanor takes the opportunity to push him off of her, and he stumbles backward, chest heaving. She quickly fixes her lipstick in the mirror's reflection, straightens out the tiara on her head, and smoothes her dress out before pulling open the doors to head back into the palace, and back down to dinner.

Jasper finds his way back inside, without a single hair out of place twenty minutes later, just as they're moving to go into one of the state rooms for post-dinner drinks, as politely offered by His Majesty King Robert himself.

"We're not staying long, I hope you know that," he murmurs in her ear as he joins her side.

"We'll stay as long as I say we're staying," she replies, gently placing her hand on his back. His muscles are tense, and she can tell he's pissed about what happened on the balcony. "And don't think I haven't seen how the First Lady has been looking at you all night, Jasperrr," she adds in a terrible imitation of his own native tongue. He shudders, because he's forcibly reminded of Liam's equally awful imitation.

"Don't," he says, his tone pleading for hers not to continue the way it is.

She smiles. " _Robbie_ , I wish I had of gotten the fish. It looked so much better than my chicken. It was awfully dry. It must not have been Guy cooking tonight."

"No," he says dryly, reaching into his front jacket pocket and withdraws a packet of cigarettes and lights one, much to the chagrin of his mother and the Prime Minister. "It wasn't."

"Yes, how will you _ever_ survive?" Jasper replies dryly as she rolls her eyes, and finally separates from him, making her way to the wet bar across the room, and swipes a bottle of wine, and two glasses.

" _Well_ , it was lovely meeting you all, but I'm exhausted. Enjoy the rest of your evening. Jasper?"

"It was great meeting you all," he reiterates, his face apologising for her brash actions, and for their abrupt departure.

Jasper then turns on his heel, and tightly grips her elbow, and leads her from the room without another word.

"You've got some nerve," he mutters to her as he leads her out. "Honestly, Eleanor."

Eleanor smirks to herself as he pulls her along to her bedroom. She's going to get an earful from her mother tomorrow, she's sure, for not being more social. But she never has been and she's never been the star attraction at these dinners so she's generally been able to get off scot free, and out of these boring socializing events. Robert will likely snark her in the morning as well but it's nothing she hasn't heard before, from either of them.

Robert knows better than anyone she hates these types of things.

"Keep your hands off of my tiara," she snaps as she hauls it off of her head, digging the pins of her hair as he opens her bedroom door for them. She pushes past him, and carefully places it back in it's proper box, because she knows that Harry's going to be along first thing in the morning looking for it. He's probably not sleeping tonight, either, and she half considers calling Rachel to come and get it from her room for the sake of the Crown Jeweler's mental health.

"You gotta let that go," he scowls as she loudly shuts the box, and turns to face her after he locks the door.

"And if I don't?" She says innocently as he takes a step toward her.

And then another.

And another.


	11. The Weight

**_**Chapter 11: The Weight**_**

* * *

 _If he goes to her tonight, he knows that she is going to be even more aggressive with him than what she was earlier. He couldn't get the look she had in her eyes out of his head._

 _He was aware that the Queen and the Princess didn't get along, but had yet to witness it in its entirety._

 _The Queen was pure fire, and was the biggest burn on Eleanor's soul._

 _As he stood outside of her bedroom doors, hearing her admit that she had planted those stories in the newspapers and on the internet about how well The Princess did for her first fashion show, he knew she was wrong. He had stood in the crowd. He had heard what they were saying about her work. Despite being planted stories, they were telling the truth._

 _He thought back to what her professors had said about her when he had her student file pulled from fashion school, back when he was still planning this job._

 _Holds incredible promise, and has an amazing opportunity to showcase unique talents and work, if only she'd apply herself more._

 _Doesn't work well with other people._

 _Very competitive._

 _He and the Princess were a lot alike, whether he wanted to admit it or not. And he'd never say it out loud. She was a real person, with real feelings, and he had seen how her mother manipulated and twisted them._

 _Her mother was supposed to be someone she could trust._

 _He was no better than her, and that notion made him slightly uncomfortable._

 _Eleanor had tried very hard not to let him see that she was upset. But after spending nearly every damn day and night with her over the last several weeks, he could read Princess Eleanor like a book. He had seen a myriad of emotions from her- but not this. Never this._

 _She was truly upset, because she had put so much time and effort into this- only for the Queen to tear it all down in a matter of minutes. It had taken her only seconds to tear down her daughter, and she had done it without flinching._

 _There was a reason why Eleanor is the way she is, and his actions toward her hadn't exactly been becoming, either, but he's got a job to do and even though the Princess might show some sort of humility, he'll be damned if he's going to let her ruin this._

 _She can't ruin this, because she'll ruin him._

 _But he knows that tomorrow's going to be a difficult day for them both because nothing is ever good for him by association of the Princess' bad mood. So the least he can do is try and bring her out of it by ensuring that she spends at least half the day in bed asleep because he's going to keep her up as late as humanly possible._

 _So he's back outside her door for the second time that evening, holding a piece offering of a bottle of red wine he had nicked from the kitchen cellars. He didn't look to see what kind it was because he knows that she doesn't care, as long as it's there._

 _It's silent inside her room and he hopes she hasn't passed out yet or snorted so much coke that she's just lying there, again. She's thankfully been curving back on the coke, but the marijuana is still a permanent haze in her bedroom. He knocks loudly on the door before pushing it open before she can reply._

 _The lights are off, and she's got the candelabra lit behind her sofa, casting a warm glow throughout the room. Eleanor's got her window propped open and she's sitting uncomfortably close to the edge of the window. There's an empty bottle of vodka sitting on the windowsill next to her._

" _Go away, Jasper," she sighs, but she doesn't look at him._

" _I brought you some wine, your supply looked low when I left and it is my job to make sure Her Royal Highness' bar is refreshed, " he says as he unscrews the cap, and then dangles it over her head out the window._

 _She snatches it from his hand. Jasper can't see her face, but he's sure she's scowling at him. He takes the opportunity to slowly snake his hand across her midsection, under her loose tank top. Her stomach tenses under his heated touch, and she leans back ever so slightly into his chest with her eyes tightly shut._

 _She'd never admit it or acknowledge it, but he can tell she'd been crying. There were thin black smudges in the corner of her eye from where she had wiped them, trying to prevent them from leaving harsh, black tracks down her face. She'd look like some sort of anorexic Alice Cooper._

 _Regardless, he presses his lips to the side of her head as his hand slowly moves up her shirt, and across her bare breast, all the while making sure to drag his fingertips across her nipple. She lifts the bottle to her lips and takes an easy, long pull from the bottle and then raises the bottle to his mouth. He takes it from her with his free hand, and also takes a drink, not taking time to savour it. He's never been much for wine, but if she's offering he'll take it. She waves it off and he sets it down on the floor beside him._

" _Come inside, Eleanor."_

" _Why don't you?" She snarks back without missing a beat._

 _Of course she'd have to make that comment. Apparently she's not as bad off as he thought._

" _You know damn well know I always do, baby," he breathed in her ear._

" _You're a risky bastard, aren't you?" Eleanor replies, as he steps back, and takes her offered hand to help her swing her body back into her bedroom. As soon as she's got both feet on the ground he's got both hands on her waist, pulling her in. She's fired up from the argument with her mother now because she's had time to marinate it in a bottle of Russian vodka. Her lips are on his, and he's wasting no time prying her lips apart with his tongue because he needs to taste her. She rises onto the tips of her toes and wraps her arms around his neck, effectively placing the length of her slender body against his own. He knows she can feel his erection against her inner thigh by the way she's placed herself._

 _He easily slides his hands down over her waist before cupping her backside and lifting her up, and blindly brings her over to her bed, never once breaking contact. This is a dance they've done dozens of times, and he's had every inch of her bedroom committed to memory, to the point where he now knows that she switches her hiding spot for her drugs every few weeks because he's now got a loaded gun on top of her fake armoire and he'll put another one under her vanity once she moves the stash from there in a few weeks time. He prefers to have one on each side of her bed, but for now he'll have to deal with one._

 _He drops her with a slight bounce in the middle of her bed, before placing one knee on the mattress so he can lean forward and drag down her trousers. She doesn't break eye contact with him as he roughly drags them down her thin legs and drops them over the side of her bed. It's only when he places his mouth on her, and his tongue slides languidly up the length of her does she look away, because he knows that she knows the sensation he's causing her to feel is almost too much for her to handle._

 _Eleanor is a woman who knows what she likes and she's not afraid to let him know, and he finds it sexy as hell._

 _Her back arches against the bed and her fingers are clutching the sheets so tightly he's sure she's going to rip them soon with her nails. It's then he pulls back, smirking carefully as he stands up, and pulls his grey jumper over his head, and begins on removing his jeans as her eyes open, and swing back to his._

 _Eleanor sits back up and removes her top, and tosses it over on the back of her vanity chair as he climbs back into bed with her. She presses her open mouth to his, all the while pushing him onto his back, and climbs on top of him._

 _Ah. So she wants to control. And he'll let her tonight because it has been a shit day and the last thing he wants is to listen to her bitch while he's-_

 _Eleanor sinks her body onto his, touching herself along the way. He sucks in a harsh breath because she's so goddamn hot and tight around him it's almost too much._

 _It always feels like too much. She always feels so goddamn good. Every. Fucking. Time._

 _She guides his hands to her hips as she slowly starts to move against him. His eyes roll back in his head as her fingers lightly brush over the spot where they're joined._

 _And it's too much. He leans forward, running his hands up her sides, and winds them around her back, pulling her forward so he can kiss her. She doesn't fight back as he begins moving his hips up to meet hers. Her long, slender fingers weave into his hair and she forces him to tilt his face up to meet her own. She bares her teeth against his chin, nipping him slightly, before sloppily kissing him in time with the rhythm of their hips._

 _He moves his hands back down to her waist, and thrusts up into her, hard. She yelps, and falls back, and he takes the opportunity to take control of the situation and flips her off of him, and onto her stomach. His hand roughly palms her ass, striking her as she moves forward, panting as she struggles to get up on her knees. He easily wraps his arm back around her waist and slides back inside of her, moving slowly as she pants into his neck._

" _I control this, Princess," he growls into her ear. "I control you."_

 _She's too far gone to fight back, and he knows it. She knows it. One hand wraps itself around his neck and the other holds tightly onto her headboard as he continues to pound into her. He sticks two of his fingers into her mouth, and she swirls her tongue around them before he pulls them out and slowly begins to rub her clit. She's close, and he wants her to let go before he does._

" _Do you want me to come inside, babe?"_

" _Yes," she moans, falling forward as her body begins to shake. She goes limp against him, but he doesn't let go. He doesn't slow down. He's going to see this through and he'll be damned if he doesn't sleep good tonight from this._

 _In fact, he can't recall the last time he's ever slept so well, if ever, since before her. She had a high stamina and when she was angry-_

" _Fuck, Eleanor," he grunts as he's suddenly overtaken by his own orgasm. They both fall forward, with him pressed firmly up against her back as they struggle to catch their breath. He needs to get off of her. He's twice the weight that she is and she's too slender to handle his whole weight. He presses a light kiss to her bare shoulder, and then rolls off._

 _Like clockwork, she shoots off the bed, and heads into the bathroom._

 _She never stays._

 _He doesn't expect her to._

 _He gives it four more minutes before he hauls himself up to sit on the edge of the bed. Jasper finds his discarded boxers still in his jeans at the foot of the bed, and is just pulling them back on when she reemerges, dressed in a pair of black cotton shorts and a silk camisole. She doesn't look at him as she crosses her bedroom in three strides, and takes a long drink of wine from the bottle he left by her window. After she sets it back down, she pulls the window shut, purposefully slamming it._

 _She's still mad._

 _It's going to be a long night._

* * *

"Are you mad that he came last night, mum?" Eleanor taunts as she enters the parlor where her mother's taking her afternoon tea. Helena looks up, startled, because she clearly hasn't been expecting a guest this afternoon, let alone an audience with her daughter. "Did it just burn you to see him act like a goddamn saint?"

"No, but it seems to be burning you, Eleanor," Helena replies, setting down her teacup to begin fixing a second one for her daughter. Eleanor accepts it without argument as she sits down across from her.

"What's burning me, _mother_ , is the fact that the goddamn American First Lady can't keep her bloody hands to herself. Do they not teach manners over there anymore? Have they just let the place go to the dogs since they gained their independence?"

"It doesn't matter, because Jasper Frost couldn't take his eyes off of _you_. And everyone saw, including reporter for _The Guardian_. I'm sure you'll be interested in seeing that, among the other things that have been gracing the headlines about your little dinner date last night," she informs her as she pulls out an iPad, and opens her browser, which contains several internet tabs baring various headlines about the state dinner.

She's not interested. Never has been. Eleanor sends The Queen as steely gaze, and closes the iPad, and hands it back without looking at it.

"I'm sorry, for what I did, Eleanor. I knew why he went to your room that night, because I overheard him telling Liam that you had asked him to leave, and that he was going to honour your wishes, because it was the least he could do. He's hurt you so much, darling. I didn't know how bad it was until Liam filled me in on what had transpired between the two of you all of those months ago, before I intervened the first time.

"If you needed Jasper Frost to disappear, I was going to make sure that he damn well did, including barring him from the palace incase he decided he had a change of heart. I knew he didn't cash the cheque, and Mr. Hill was keeping tabs on him while he moved in a very similar pattern to yours across Europe. Just keeping enough distance from you as to not arouse suspicion, until you were in Munich. I knew it was only a matter of time before one of you sought the other out. I tried to make you happy, Eleanor. I tried to give you everything you needed to have a second chance at all of this. He left because he thought it would make you happy, and he made me promise that you'd get it without him, because he's been nothing but trouble since the day you two met."

Eleanor sets her teacup down, and closes her eyes. So, he had been following her. She had suspected as much. She had made just enough media attention so that he'd know where she was, on purpose.

Helena had heard that she wanted him gone, and in her new found quest to make amends with her children, she had been more than willing to help Jasper Frost disappear in any way possible.

He wasn't supposed to have stayed in Europe.

He was supposed to go back to America.

But he wouldn't be Jasper Frost if he listened. Whether the orders came from the Queen herself or not.

"He said that he loves me." Eleanor says finally, her voice cracks on the last word. " _Me_."

"I've told you before, Eleanor, there's only been one man that's looked at me the way that Jasper Frost looks at you. And I can see it every time he does. That man loves every stubborn hair on your head," Helena says, her expression softening considerably. "And God forbid he messes up again, he'll be on the first plane back to America, on Robert's orders. Trust me."

"I know Robert's been wanting to spar with him," she murmurs. "I've been keeping them apart on purpose."

"You can't keep them separate forever, Eleanor. He's going to end up here, eventually."

" _Mum_!"

Helena raises her eyebrows then, and takes a dainty sip of her tea, clearly challenging her to challenge her words. "So you're saying you don't feel the same way about Mr. Frost? Not anymore?"

"I love him," Eleanor insists, her eyes narrowing. "He infuriates me to no end, he doesn't listen, but at least he was _there_ ," she points her finger down on the tea cart for emphasis. "I'm done arguing with you about him. Just- just stay out of it, alright? Please. And for godsakes keep your hands to yourself."

* * *

" _Palace insiders say that Princess Eleanor's new boyfriend, whom has yet to be confirmed by the palace, is American."_

" _After shagging what seems like every man in Britain, it seems Princess Eleanor has gone overseas for her next conquest."_

" _Princess Eleanor's after common bones?"_

" _Who is this Pauper Prince? What is King Robert's reaction to this break in Royal tradition?"_

"Jasper, will you kindly shut the fuck up?" Eleanor calls from his bathroom as he reads headlines off to her. He's Googled her while she's in the bath, and has been reading the results back to her off and on over the last hour, and it's starting to get on her nerves. _The Daily Mail_ has had no qualms about ranking him amongst her past conquests. He's been pretty smug about that, too. And they haven't even confirmed his name yet.

"Why? Do you have a _common bone_ to pick with me, _Your Highness_?"

"You'll be picking your own _common bone_ if you don't shut your goddamn mouth."

"I regret asking you to come here," he calls. "You're being awfully rude."

"You knew what you were getting into," she shouts back, and sinks down lower into the warm water, dipping her hair in to get it wet so she can wash it.

She hears him mutter something to himself in the next room, but doesn't press it further. After the conversation she had with her mother today, and then with the combination of Liam and Robbie picking at her about what had been printed in the paper's that morning- she needed to get out.

So it only makes sense that Jasper picks up where Liam and Robert left off.

"Len," he sighs through the door, what seems like hours later. "You've been in there for almost two hours. I only have _one_ bathroom. If you can wrap your head around that concept."

Eleanor groans, but she knows that he's right. She pulls the plug, gets out, and wraps one of his dark blue towels around her body and pulls the door open, pushing past him.

* * *

It's shortly after six in the morning when her mobile goes off, and then his. She frowns when she sees James Hill's name flashing on the screen.

"James?" She says groggily into the phone.

"There is a military car arriving to pick you up in approximately three minutes, Princess. There's been an incident at Heathrow and into the tube system, you need to be brought back to the palace immediately, do you understand?"

"Yes," she confirms, and drops her phone.

"Frost," he clips into his own mobile as she shoots out of bed, and methodically begins to pull her clothing back on. His eyes widen as he too, throws the covers off his body and begins to pull on his jeans with one hand. "I'll be there in an hour."

"Is James coming to get you?" He demands.

"No, they're sending an armed guard. You're coming with me." She demands, reaching for his black ball cap.

"I can't. I have to go to work. It's an emergency and they need all of us. It's in lock down, Eleanor. I'll be _fine._ "

"Protocol states that _spouses_ of the royal family are to be secured, too."

"Now isn't the time for you to be stubborn," he says forcibly, placing his hands on her shoulders. "I promise you that I'll be fine. Go home, and don't leave. I'll come to you the second I can. I'll have my phone with me and you'll have-"

He's cut off by a loud banging on the front door downstairs. He's back in bodyguard mode in a flash, grabbing hold of her arm and leads her down the stairs. He peers through the small eyepiece in the door, confirming that it is indeed the British Military- and swings the door open.

"I love you," he breathes into her ear, kisses the side of her head, and sends her out the door before she can reply. Immediately she's flanked by two armed military personnel, who usher her into the back of a Range Rover, and advise her to lay on the floor under a dark grey wool blanket so she's not seen.

Eleanor does what she's told without a backward glance, because there's no time. She knows her place in this world, in this moment- is significant. The second she's secure on the floor, the Range Rover's off.

The drive back to the palace feels like the longest forty five minute drive of her life. Because of the fact that she's in a military vehicle, they've been able to speed right through the city, but the traffic's been nearly gridlocked because of the explosions in the underground.

A lump forms in her throat and she pulls her phone out from her interior pocket, and types a quick message.

 _I love you, too. Please be safe. Stay out of the underground._

He doesn't reply, and she doesn't have enough time to keep checking to see if he does because they're finally at the palace. The SUV comes to a screeching halt, and then they're telling her to get out of the car because she's going to be escorted down to th _e_ safe room with the rest of her family. It's Hassan who pulls the car door open, and then he wraps his arm protectively over her shoulders as he ushers her down into the tunnels. She can tell something's wrong because the air is so thick with tension she's almost fearful to ask what's going on.

And then they're at the safe room and he speaks quietly and urgently into his earpiece, confirming their arrival. There's sounds of the locks being undone from the inside, and then the door swings open. Hassan pushes her inside, and quickly enters.

"What's going on?" She demands as soon as she's in.

"A bomb went off at Heathrow in Terminal One. Then several more went off in the underground in zone two and have been going off every thirty minutes, getting dangerously close to the Circle Line, which, I have a sneaking suspicion, will end up in a crescendo of explosions, effectively fucking our _entire_ transport system," Robert explains, with military precision. He's sitting across the room with two other MI6 agents at the table, with four laptops between them. Robert's dressed in a pair of old jeans and he's got his black dress shirt unbuttoned halfway and his sleeves are rolled all the way up to his elbows as he types away furiously on something that looks like it's a military-grade laptop. "Not to mention the casualties, but we're not going to talk about that right now because things are _still_ blowing up in _my_ fucking city and I'm on top of this more than the fucking Prime Minister. I'm very close to start dipping my wick in national politics again if he doesn't have his shit together in the next hour." His eyes raise to his sister, and then they narrow again when he realises that she's alone, save for Hassan. "Where the fuck is Frost?"

"SIS Building. He was called in-"

"The SIS building was hit fifteen minutes ago. They're evacuating _survivors_ into the Vauxhall Cross tube bunker as we speak," his expression pales as Eleanor crumbles before their eyes. Robert's out of his chair and pulling another mobile phone to his ear, his hands knotting into his dark hair.

 _The SIS building was hit fifteen minutes ago._

 _The SIS building was hit fifteen minutes ago._

 _The SIS building was hit fifteen minutes ago._

Eleanor gapes wordlessly at Liam, who leads her over to the sofa. As soon as she sits down she reaches into her bag, and pulls out her mobile, and dials his number. It's only natural that it goes straight to voicemail.

" _Jasper Frost_ ," she heard Robert say through gritted teeth. "Tall bloke. Yankee. Light brown hair. Works in Division Six. Could cut ice with his jawline. Perfect eyebrows. Looks like something that _only_ my sister would bring home."

She tries his mobile again, but again it goes straight to voicemail.

" _Robbie_ ," she chokes out. His expression turns sympathetic as he turns toward her.

"They're looking, Lenny. They're gleaning through everyone in the tunnel looking for him. The second he's located he's going to be extracted and brought straight here. I promise," he says soothingly, as he bends down on his knees in front of her. He carefully frames her face in his hands, and in this moment she's never been more thankful that he's alive, well, and _here_.

Eleanor looks away and takes out her mobile, and opens her text messages. She chokes on a sob when she sees that the last message she sent to him is showing as failed.

"The cell towers are jammed, Lenny. We're running on military lines down here. We're confident that whoever set _this_ up has set up their explosions on the mobile network and we're trying to scramble the lines so nothing else is damaged. We haven't been hit this hard since the Second World War," he explains, but he's not looking at her. He's looking at the message she sent.

 _I love you, too. Please be safe. Stay out of the underground._

* * *

It's been six hours, fourteen minutes, and thirty-nine seconds since she's been thrown in the safe room with Liam, their mother, and Robert and various pieces of work from the Royal Security and the Royal Military.

It's been four hours, thirty minutes, and thirty seconds since the Prime Minister had a mental breakdown in the wake of the current crisis in London, and said he was unable to handle it.

It's been two hours, twenty-three minutes, and nineteen seconds since Robert called an emergency teleconference with the House of Lords and Great Britain's Parliament to put forth a motion to reestablish a despotic monarchical system over the country so he could gain temporary control over the military and start calling the shots to get the situation under control so the people didn't break out into a mass panic, because similar events occurred on a smaller scale in Edinburgh.

It's then that Eleanor has to remind herself that Robbie is only twenty-six years old and has more weight on his shoulders now, in this moment, than any other person on this planet. That all of them- including her- are going to have to emerge from this bunker at some point and be the most hands on Royal Family Britain's ever seen.

And her grandmother served in two bloody world wars.

No one wants to say the ' _T_ ' word because they don't know for sure if that's what it was, or if the anti-monarchist groups suddenly chose now to rise up once again.

Liam's been telling himself it's got nothing to do with the motion that was just passed before parliament a few months ago that would involve Britain continuing its participation in bombing efforts overseas. But as more and more details emerge, that's what it's looking like and they're determined to be resilient in the aftermath.

Jasper hasn't been located, and Robert calls personally for an update on the search every half hour.

She's seen the building on the news, and it doesn't look good. She's not sure where exactly in the building Jasper's office was, but if he's somewhere in that carnage, the odds of him being trapped and fine are slim.

They had received advanced notice that something was likely going to hit the SIS offices because that's where all major intelligence decisions are made, and some very, very important people had been inside at that time. A few have already been reported dead. A few had already been evacuated into the SIS bunker prior to the explosion. Even more are still unaccounted for.

And her heart clenches because a lot of these missing blokes and birds are family friends. Not just in SIS- but in other government offices, too. Charities.

"I need to get out of here," she groans from her spot on the bed, across the room. She's been left alone for the most part and she's just far enough away to have privacy, but is still in earshot of the conversation that's buzzing in the main room. She's had about three glasses of whiskey to take the edge off of her nerves because _no one has been able to locate Jasper Fucking Frost_.

"Soon, Eleanor," Helena calls, leaning against the doorframe. She's got her own glass in her hand and has stayed out of the way and has stayed silent. She knows her mother's going to be at the hospital lending a hand the soonest she's allowed, and Liam will be liaisoning between the family and the government. Once again, Eleanor doesn't know where she fits in all of this because she feels like she doesn't have any useful talents to aid in the recovery efforts. The one person who might offer up some sort of insight is currently MIA because his office building has just been blown up. And that's just one of the several reasons why she's got a bottle of fancy whiskey in bed with her.

"Go away, mum," she lifts her head to lift her glass to her lips to finish off whatever's inside, before falling back into the pillows. They smell like basement, and are lumpy, and she's forced to remember all of the times she complained about Jasper's pillows being pieces of shit and _now_ she feels bad about it.

"Jasper Frost is the only other person on this Earth who is just as stubborn as you are, darling. He'll turn up. Don't worry." The Queen ignores her request, and sits on the edge of the bed next to her. Helena prys the crystal tumbler out of her fingers, and places it on the nightstand, and smoothes her dark hair out of her face.

It's true, and she knows it.

Jasper Frost has never been one to listen. So if the City of Westminster is under attack, then the last place he's going to go is to Vauxhall Cross. They'd have an alternate location for situations like this.

They'd have to.

Her eyes flash.

"Robert?" She shouts suddenly, pushing her mother's hands away from her face. Helena scowls, misunderstanding her anger.

"Honestly, Eleanor-"

"Not you," she snaps, scrambling off of the bed. "The rest of Jasper's team- have they been recovered?"

"I'm not sure- they weren't included in any briefing-" he turns around from the table he's at to look at her. He looks slightly annoyed at being interrupted, and he's got his iPod headphones in because he's using it as a phone to stay connected with the Military until they can get out of this fucking bunker. He stops dead because he realizes that she's onto something. They haven't been able to figure out _what_ exactly stopped the explosions from reaching the Circle Line or the city centre yet.

It's then that His Majesty, King Robert Henstridge, realizes that his sister's shifty colonial boyfriend might have finally proven his worth.


	12. Human

**A/N:** Thanks for hanging with me! This is my favourite chapter out of this whole story. Last flashback, too. One more, and then an epilogue to tie things up.

* * *

 **Chapter 12: Human**

* * *

"Eleanor? What do you know?" Robert asks carefully as she frantically runs her hands through her hair. Everything's coming together so fast in her head and she's suddenly feeling so, so overwhelmed. All of those conversations that she's sat in on after hours- they weren't meaningless. She knows what they were working on trying to stop. It was _this_.

"Bletchley Park. We still have operations there- right?" She's speaking quickly.

"No- we haven't had anything at Bletchley Park since-"

Eleanor raises her eyebrows as realization dawns on Robert. "We've evacuated The Doughnut, yes? What's in the middle of London and Cheltenham?

"Get us a car. I don't care if the palace is secure or not. We're going to Bletchley. _NOW_." Robert shouts, and then he's pulling the wires from his ears and shouting orders at the others in the room as James Hill opens the safe room doors for them, and instructs that she and Robert are to remain in the tunnel until a car's been brought around for them. It takes all of five minutes for an SUV to be brought around for them, with James at the wheel. Eleanor and Robert get in the back, and she's demanding that he give up one of his phones so she can look something up.

"His team- what they do- it's on a need to know basis. I shouldn't know but I do because of who Jasper is and-"

"-Get on with it, Lenny."

"You need to contact Major Daniel Bishop." She spits out, pulling the name from the dark corners of her memory. "And ask him if his team is in Bletchley Park. Right now, because we are on our way."

"On it," he clips, and pulls his phone back to her, and then dials in a bunch of numbers, and puts the phone to his ear as he leans forward on her knees, and attempts to control her breathing, her eyes firmly locked on the floor.

There's an odd ringing in her ears, and everything that Robert's saying into the phone isn't registering into her brain because there's now a slight chance that _he's okay_ , and that he's not actually in the mess that's all over London. She's too afraid to look up and see the damage around her as they head toward the freeway. She'll deal with that when she knows about _him_.

And if he's not, she'll understand. Nothing divine has ever smiled down on her in this lifetime, and she hasn't done anything to merit redemption. She's stopped taking drugs and stopped whoring around and has decided to give a relationship a go with the one person she shouldn't be. She'll figure something out. She'll help her mother at the hospital, or something. She'll go around and help the people where she can, on the ground. Anything to take her mind off of what's happened to _him_.

"Major Bishop confirmed that there are a group of SIS Agents operating out of Bletchley Park," Robert says in her ear, laying a hand on her back. "He said he can't confirm their identities because he himself doesn't know them, but he's also en route because he's on the same page as we are. We'll meet him at the gates and then be escorted in by the military personnel that are guarding them. We'll be there in about thirty minutes. James is speeding as fast as he can without running us off the road, Lenny."

She waves her hand in acknowledgement of his words, and turns away from her brother, rolling her mobile between her hands. She chances a glance down at the time, and it's now that she registers that her phone is showing ' _searching'_ for where her service provider ought to say. She locks her screen, and shoves it deep in her pocket because she knows that time will just somehow go slower if she keeps looking at the damn thing. Besides, her battery is almost dead and when they finally unscramble the mobile network signal, she's sure there's going to be a slew of messages rolling in from _someone-_ _anyone-_ that she'll have to deal with eventually.

"Ten minutes, Your Majesty. Your Highness," James announces from the front seat. The military escort nods next to him, as if his confirmation of this little piece of information might hold some more weight than what their head of security has just told them.

"Thank you, James," she says flatly, not drawing her gaze away from the greenery on the side of the road as they zoom past it. Robert places his hand on her knee, and shakes her slightly. She turns her head to look at him, and she knows she's dead in the eyes. Robert smiles a small smile at her; he's trying to convince her that it's going to be okay. And if it's not, then they'll deal with it as a family.

If Frost is dead because he _was_ caught in the explosion in Vauxhall, Robert knows that she'll never fully recover. She'll never be quite the same because it's the first time she's given someone a second chance to prove themselves to her, and they've finally followed through. He's followed through. He doesn't like what he's done to her in the past, and he doesn't have to, but he's seen the way that Jasper Frost looks at his sister. He's seen the way that Eleanor looks at him.

Eleanor's never looked at anyone like that. She's never looked at Beck that way, for sure. Though he's seen the way Beck looked at his sister. He's seen how many people looked at her. She never paid any mind to it. Not until now.

* * *

 _She knows._

 _How she found out, he's not sure, because there hasn't been enough time for her to find out unless-_

" _Don't- DON'T YOU TOUCH ME!" She shrieks at him, pointing her finger straight in his face. If she were any closer, she'd take his eye out, and he'd probably let her at this point. She's got some paint on her hands and he's not sure why, because in the six months he's been with her, Eleanor hasn't shown any sort of inclination to art other than sleeping with their makers, and he'd put a stop to that as soon as he could._

 _She verbally spars with Ted Pryce some more. Marcus argues on her behalf as they stare each other down. She's frantic, and he wants nothing more than to pull her in and calm her down. If she's going out into the tunnels, he's damn well going with her because this may be the only chance he gets to explain himself to her. She's been avoiding him like he's been carrying the Black Death since she returned from Monte Carlo. Not that he blames her; they ended on awful terms and he wouldn't speak to him either under the same circumstances. It probably hurt her a lot more than she's been letting on to see him assigned to her mother upon her return from her getaway._

 _He had gotten her text the morning after she got back._

 _He was home, in bed, when it came through because he was still off on leave before he officially began servicing the Queen._

 _He wanted nothing more than to get out of bed and go back to the palace and do to her whatever she goddamn wanted if that meant she forgave him for what had happened._

 _He couldn't, not now- because her mother had him under her perfectly manicured thumb; so he ignored her._

 _Marcus opens the door and she bolts for it, and he's not far behind. She rounds the corner, and turns to look at him and the pain is as plain as day in her eyes. From him. From what's happened to her father. From the unknown. It's only there for the briefest of moments before she stonewalls him, and turns away._

 _He slowly turns around the corner, and she's looking at him like he's the worst thing to ever walk this Earth. She's not wrong, because in this moment, he is._

" _Stay away from me," she hisses at him. She's never spoken to him like this before. Not with this kind of malice._

" _I just thought-"_

 _I just thought you might have still wanted me._

" _-What? That we could hold hands, have a heart to heart that I trust you? I don't trust you, Jasper. My father has been attacked, and someone in here is lying. And you have quite a track record, don't you?"_

 _She knows._

 _She fucking knows._

 _He shouldn't have done it. Shouldn't have even entertained the notion that she'd never find out. It was a nightmare he was going to have to live with the for the rest of his days, and he goddamn thought she wouldn't find out. That she'd be relieved that he'd been transferred out so they could-_

 _No._

 _He turns away from her, then, because there's nothing he can say that's going to make her trust him again, if she ever did in the first place._

 _She stayed. Still sought him out. Still wanted him._

 _And he left her. As if he hadn't already inflicted enough emotional damage on her, Eleanor's now got to live with the belief that he had had sex with her goddamn mother._

* * *

 _Three hours later, they're allowed out. The Queen's secured and not allowed to leave the palace, and frankly- she can literally go fuck herself because he's not doing it any longer. He won't. He can't._

 _Jasper waits until he hears her door slam down the hall, and then he's off. She needs to know that he's sorry he fucked up. He's done fucking up. He's not doing it anymore and he'll tell her all about the con and if she still doesn't want him around, he'll go. He'll quit, and just disappear. No more Las Vegas. No more London._

 _When he was a kid, he had a day-to-day calendar with different European cities on it. They all looked better than the shitty Nevada desert he was living in with his folks. The ones that featured Germany had always been his favourite. He wasn't bad at the German language- he caught onto different tongues easily. He always had a gift with languages. He'd just fucking keep running until she decided she was over it and might consider talking to him again._

 _Because he'd damn well die if she didn't listen to him._

" _Frost, you're being reassigned. You're going to oversee the security for the King at the hospital. Gather what you need and head over. Don't leave until he's dead, or you're told otherwise. Do you understand me?" Ted tells him once he's back in the security office, and there's something in his voice that doesn't sound quite right. There's something about the way he rolls the word 'dead' around that doesn't sit well with him, but now isn't the time to be superstitious about what's going on in Ted's voice and mannerisms._

 _He's standing outside her door when he hears her throw something heavy- something that sounds like her coffee table, judging by the sounds of the clatter- and then she lets out a harsh, frustrated cry that he's sure he has something to do with. Regardless, he can't dwell on it right now because she wants to see her father and he's her only ticket out of the palace. Jasper pushes her bedroom door open just in time to see her sit on the edge of her chair, her expression teary and broken._

 _Eleanor still won't look at him._

" _I've been assigned to oversee the security at the King's hospital," he tells her. She still won't turn around. "We'll take the tunnels."_

 _Still nothing, and he can see that's she's debating on going with him in her head. She was told to stay put. She was told not to leave the palace. Why the fuck is she choosing now to obey orders?_

" _Let's go before I change my mind," his tone takes on an unintentional harsher edge and the Princess springs to life then, and she pushes past him out of her room, and heads straight for the hidden doorway just down from her own bedroom. There's cameras in there and they'll be seen, but he doesn't give a shit. If Ted wants to fire him, he can fire him. Whatever maniac's out there that tried to kill the King can take him down too because nothing else matters to him anymore. Just her._

 _He's not surprised when Ted chews him out in his ear and he fires right back about not caring about his job because Eleanor's at her safest with him. She always has been. She always will be._

 _She's salty the whole way to the hospital and she doesn't say a word. She just keeps picking at the paint on her hands, as if it might help it go away. It doesn't look like blood, like Cyrus had taunted her, but he knows her well enough to know that it's his words that are that are rolling through her brain in this moment._

 _It's nothing he's said that's done this to her._

 _It's what he's done._

 _Sneaking her out like this- he hopes it means something to her. Anything. He wouldn't sneak the damn Queen out because she's in survival mode. Liam's too much of a mess and they're not that close, and he knows how much she loves her father, and he loves her. If anyone deserves to be at the King's bedside, it's Eleanor._

 _He'd atone for his sins against her one day, and this is a small step._

 _It doesn't matter, because she has him arrested only a matter of hours later, because he was right._

 _She knows._

 _He spends three days in prison. He doesn't register the charges she brought against him, but he hears the word 'betrayal' and 'Princess' and knows that she's pulled a few strings to keep him there. There's no offer of bail until he gets word that Her Royal Highness Princess Eleanor has rescinded the charges against him, and he's free to go. That there's someone waiting for him outside with a car to escort him out._

 _He's slightly pissed off when he sees that it's her waiting for him._

 _Eleanor's outward expression of sheer irritation mimics how he feels on the inside._

 _But that's nothing new._

* * *

Eleanor is quite certain that the last ten minutes of this goddamn drive are the longest of her life. Regardless of every other thing she's said was the longest in her life, this takes the fucking cake.

If he's fine- if one single hair on his goddamn head is not out of place- she's going to slit his throat.

She's seething, and she's gone through the five stages of grief, or whatever. Robert knows this because he can read her like a goddamn book.

When they arrive at Bletchley, there are at least of dozen armed cars around the entrance of the park, and they're met by four armed soldiers, dressed in black fatigues. Clearly they're some sort of special operations team to be guarding the _other_ special operations team that's inside the park.

Once their identities are confirmed, their car is allowed in.

Eleanor's never been searched in her life, but she's getting a pat down by another man in uniform and told that she can't bring her mobile in. It has to stay in the car, and she hears Robert say something under his breath that sounds suspiciously like something about making _her_ stay in the car with it.

"You're about as useless as this phone, _Robert_." She hisses and steps away from the bloke who has just took his fingers out of her ankle boots. She's irritable because she hasn't had a chance to shower, she hasn't had a cigarette since last night, and they still haven't fucking found Jasper.

"Are you lot done? Can we please go inside because I'd rather not be seen as a moving target if something is planning on shooting me dead from the goddamn sky!"

" _Eleanor_!" Robert snaps, and tightly grips her upper arm as they're led down the green towards a small building. "For Godsakes, were you raised in a barn? Show some bloody respect!"

She scoffs loudly, and throws her long, dark hair over her shoulders, wraps her arms around her torso, and keeps her mouth shut for the rest of the journey. Robert winds his arm around her shoulders, and pulls her into his side. He's just as tense as she is, because they still don't know.

They don't know what's going on inside that building at the bottom of the hill. There's nothing fancy about it. Nothing about it says Secret Intelligence Services emergency operation centre, or some other James Bond type of role or thing or whatever the fuck Jasper Frost does throughout the run of the day.

She'd have to goddamn marry him or something to keep him in the palace.

Eleanor stumbles at the thought because that's one that's definitely _never_ crossed her mind before. Robert tightens his grip on her. She's sure he'd slap her upside the head at even mentioning the word _marriage_ in a time like this, let alone with Jasper Frost.

He'd have her put under a psychiatric hold.

She's considering putting herself under one for even thinking said thought.

"Your Majesty, Your Royal Highness."

 _Oh great, another guard._

Eleanor raises her eyebrows.

Robert extends his hand to shake his. "Given the current governmental state, which I'm sure you're fully aware of, we are _very_ interested in why Division Six has been moved to Bletchley Park."

"Division Six to you. Special Technical Communications Unit to us. Come on in."

He steps back, and pushes open the door and leads them inside.

The corridor is dimly lit, and the windows have been purposefully blacked out. Robert moves his hand to the centre of her back as they're led up a staircase to another two floors and then down another agonizingly long corridor. At the end, there's a set of double doors, that are also under fucking locked guard. They bow respectfully to she and Robert, and then they part. The man that's leading their group steps forward, and pushes open the door.

There are about fifteen people, give or take, crowded in the room with about thirty computers. They're glued to their screens, and barely look up when they enter. They've all got earpieces in, and are talking quietly amongst each other- or to whomever is on the other end of their communications devices.

"Everyone," he greets, "Can you all stand down for a few moments? There's a few people here we'd like you to meet. This is Major Stephen Rowlands, he's been liaising with King Robert since this whole shit show began this morning. Speaking of, Please welcome His Majesty and Her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor, to Bletchley Park. They're very interested in the work you've been doing here today and are both committed to the cause of getting this clusterfuck sorted. Answer any questions they have, they are to have full disclosure of your work."

On the far side of the room, there's a dirty blonde head who hasn't been paying attention because he's quietly- and adamantly- talking to whoever's on the other side of his headpiece. She'd recognize that hair, and back anywhere. No one is built quite like he is. Everything else that's said falls on deaf ears as she slowly separates from Robert's side, and moves toward him. Robert calls her name, but she doesn't listen. He doesn't see what she's seeing.

He finally shuts up, and she's just a few feet away from him when he finally pulls the headset off of his head, and leans back in his chair, and rubs his face tiredly. He pulls his phone out of his pocket, and sees that it's still out of service, and swears under his breath, and shoves it back into his pocket. He straightens his back, and then slowly turns around to see what's got everyone in the room so quiet all of a sudden.

"Do you have _any_ goddamn idea how worried I've been?" Eleanor begins heatedly. She's torn between relief and anger because he's been _here_ the whole bloody time and he's _fine,_ and everything she's been feeling over the last several hours comes tumbling out. Jasper tries to interrupt her, several times, but she's not having it. Not now.

"Eleanor-"

"-I thought I was going to have to identify you by your bits off the street!"

"Eleanor-"

"-Did it not occur to you that you probably should have sent word that you were fine?! Do you have any bloody idea what it was like getting shoved in a goddamn safe room and then finding out that _your_ office building was just blown to shit?!"

"Eleanor will you-"

"-Don't you ' _Eleanor will you'_ _ME_ , Jasper Frost. I have spent the better part of the last ten hours believing you were _dead_ because you were not in the Vauxhall Bunker where you should have fucking been!"

"You know I couldn't tell you where I was going, Eleanor. You know it!"

" _I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO WORK, YOU LYING PIECE OF SHIT! I THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD! I THINK YOUR BOSS WOULD HAVE MADE A BLOODY EXCEPTION IF YOU BOTHERED TO MENTION THAT YOUR GODDAMN GIRLFRIEND WAS THE PRINCESS!"_

He smirks then, and she's seething. Nothing about this situation is funny. Nothing about it is going to end in his favour, and she's not above having him fired. She's not. Not in this moment.

The room is dead silent behind them because clearly she's caused a scene, and if everyone didn't already know he was sleeping with Her Royal Highness, Princess Eleanor, they damn well knew it now.

"Why are you looking at me like that?" She demands, crossing her arms over her chest as he leans back in his seat, and mimics her posture.

"You just said you were my girlfriend."

* * *

" _Go. You're not welcome here anymore."_

 _And just like that, she was gone. He hears her pause inside her bedroom, and he hesitates too outside because maybe, just maybe she's changed her mind, and she'll let him back in, in every sense of the word._

 _But then she doesn't, and Jasper knows he can't linger any longer than this because the palace is going to explode into a flurry of activity in a matter of hours, and none of it will have nothing to do with him because he's no longer employed by Royal Security, and his services are no longer needed. He's no longer needed._

 _He drags his hand slowly along the wall, until he meets the false door that leads down to the tunnels. He pushes it open, and closes it, and secures the lock before pulling on his jacket, and heads out into the darkness. It's the middle of the night, but there's already a crowd congregating at the Palace gates to mourn the fallen king. He slips out into the darkness in Hyde Park, and no one pays him any mind. He's not the first person to be seen wandering through the park in the middle of the night, nor will he be the last. Nobody on the outside knows who is he, what he's done, or who he's been associated with. He's just as nameless as they are, in this moment._

 _He takes the tube home, even though he hates it. Jasper can't remember the last time he took the damn thing, he always had a palace-assigned car at his disposal. Not anymore. No more palace room, uniform, life, or Princess._

 _Go. You're not welcome here anymore._

 _Her words had more effect on him than she'd ever know. She's not the first person to say that to him, and given his track record for letting people he ought to care about down, she likely won't be the last person to utter those exact words to his face, and mean it._

 _Eleanor wasn't supposed to mean a damn thing to him. She wasn't supposed to be the way she is. She was supposed to be a good lay, a bitch that he had to put up with for a little bit, and that was it._

 _It's never that easy. He should have known better. Should have expected something human from the Princess, at some point. He shouldn't have gotten attached to her. Shouldn't have expected that she'd return his feelings, because deep down, he knows that she knows that she's just as messed up as he is. He has no right to think that after everything that's happened between them, she'd want him just as much as he wants her._

 _He unlocks his flat and breathes a sigh of relief when he finds a bottle of whiskey in the back of his refrigerator. He sits in the living room and turns on the television to something, but all the channels are showing breaking news about the King's death. He's not taking any of it in, though. He can't get her face out of his head. Her words can't stop ringing in his ears._

* * *

 _They've- and he's using that word loosely- been in Paris for about two weeks now, and he's sure she's got to be moving on, soon. He knows her well enough to know that she never stays in one place too long when she travels, and she's travelling alone and she's got nobody to answer to but herself. Eleanor's been sitting across the street at a low-key Parisian cafe sipping her tea and reading some French magazine for the better part of the afternoon._

 _He's been sitting at a rival low-key Parisian cafe for the better part of the afternoon nursing a very large coffee and scrolling through her headlines from the previous night, making sure that he hadn't been photographed taking out some slimeball who tried to put his hands up her dress at the club she was at._

 _Princess Eleanor is no longer Princess Eleanor, so she gets to hang out with the common plebs on the dirty dancefloor. And hang out with them she does. She might not care that she's no longer a Princess, it seems, but the public- the men, in particular- know who she is and seem to think it's a free pass to try and put their hands up her dress and cop a feel._

 _And then there was the wandering. No, Eleanor didn't taxi back to her hotel. She did some lines of cocaine in the bathroom, and then left out the side door and wandered around the city, mostly barefoot, for hours until just before sunrise when she'd finally head back to her hotel and not emerge from her room for several hours. He loses track of her then, and he takes the opportunity to sleep and catch up on anything else that needs to be done. She orders room service at least once, sometimes twice, a day before she comes out around eight, and then they go through the whole cycle all over again._

 _He's choked out about seventeen handsy assholes since he arrived._

 _There's only one person who should be getting handsy with her, and it's him._

 _So, on the nights she doesn't wander, she picks out one suitor, and then brings him back to her hotel, and he never stays more than two hours at the very most. She gets what she needs out of them, and sends them on their way and he's there to escort them out and remind them that they are never to approach Eleanor Henstridge ever again if they want to see the light of the morning._

 _Jasper knows he can be intimidating when he wants to be, and it's plain as day that these oversexed, drunk, idiots are frightened by him._

 _Six hours later, it's the same song and dance. He stands on the other side of the room, in the shadows, watching her. Watching the world move around her as she stands still in the middle of it. She looks tired, like she didn't sleep last night. He can tell because her eyes are hooded under her heavy makeup. She's an excellent dancer, when she does move. She moves in time with the beat, and her actions are purposeful and she always knows exactly where to put her hands._

 _And then she turns, threading her fingers through her long hair and down the side of her face as she lifts her eyes to meet his._

 _Eleanor only holds his gaze for thirty seconds at most, but to him it feels like hours. Her green eyes are shining, and he knows she's coked out of her mind. Everything is silent, and the music is deaf on his ears. He wants nothing more than to go to her, to pull her in and bring her back to his room and tell her how sorry he is for what's happened. For what he's done._

 _How none of it is her fault._

 _How proud he is of her for how strong she's been in the wake of her father's death, and she doesn't need these drugs._

 _And then she looks away, her jaw set. He moves quickly out of her line of sight, deeper into the crowd, and into the darkness because he knows he needs to be gone for when her face turns back around to do a double take, and if she looks at him again he can't be held accountable for his actions._

 _Even drugged out of her mind, she's still the most beautiful thing she's ever seen, and he wants nothing more than for her to forgive him and let him come back home with her._

 _Whether Eleanor's involved or not, nothing has ever come easy for him. Not before her, and certainly not after her. He's purposefully changed his mobile number because Samantha's was blowing up his phone, looking for answers, demanding why nothing happened yet when he's had full access now for the last two months to all Royal Security Systems. Demanding to know why he's gone silent._

 _She hits a little too close to home when she accuses him of getting too cozy in the palace, because she has no idea, because he hasn't told her about what's happened with The Queen, with The King, or with Eleanor. She doesn't know that he's been fired, or that Eleanor had him thrown in prison for three goddamn days to prove a point that even after everything- she's the one in control of him. She always has been._

 _So now, he'll keep working away it until she forgives him. If it means following her around for the next couple of months, and sticking to the shadows and escorting sketchbags away from her in bars, then he'll do it._

 _Because nobody holds a grudge like a Henstridge, and he'd do well to never forget that._


	13. The Sting

**A/N:** I just want to say thank you again for all of your kind words and reviews over the last few chapters, and the rest of this story for that matter. And all the others, too.

This one's a bit shorter than what I've pushed out lately, but I think we'll wrap this up just nicely.

* * *

 _ **Chapter 13: The Sting**_

* * *

" _You_ could not have chosen a more inopportune time to act like the biggest git on the planet," Eleanor seethes once they're in the car. She's sure he likely took a deep hit to his masculinity and ego by her berating the shit out of him in front of all of his colleagues, only then to be told by her brother, _the fucking King_ , that it would be best if he came back to London with them. To which he tightly agreed, and then began packing up his belongings and led the Princess from the room without another word.

She's been eerily silent for most of the car ride, but then he had to clear his throat, and that was all the invitation she needed to open the gate. She'd been berating the shit out of him for the last twenty minutes, and she knows that he's had enough of it because his stance is tight, his jaw is set, and he's leaning away from her.

"You _do_ know that I am twenty-seven years old, and I don't need to tell you where I am every minute of every goddamn day, yeah?"

That shuts her up.

" _And_ did it ever occur to you, _Eleanor_ , that I could not tell you what was going on because I didn't even know where I was going until I got in my goddamn car and was told to make my way to Bletchley? Or that maybe I would have told you, but I was specifically told not to tell anyone, _regardless of their title, might I add_ , where I am in case something _was_ happening with the cell towers?"

"That's my sister you're talking to," Robert calls warningly from the front seat, where he's sitting next to James.

"Stay out of this, Robert," she shoots back, deliberately kicking the back of his seat.

He abruptly leans back in his seat, purposefully driving it into her knees. Eleanor swears under her breath, and mutters something that sounds an awful lot like a death threat against the King of England. He doesn't offer anything else, because this is her battle to fight. She's still torn between relief that he's alive and well, and anger that he had so freely let her believe that there was a good chance that he was dead for the last twelve hours or so.

Regardless, it's late, and they're going to have to reemerge from their protective bubble tomorrow and see the damage first hand, and put on a united front. Fight or not, Jasper is going to have to stay in the palace tonight as per security protocols, because he technically is the officially sanctioned boyfriend of Princess Eleanor, even though it hasn't been announced publicly because nobody has asked, and there have been more important things to worry about as of late than issuing a press release confirming Eleanor and Jasper's relationship. Especially now.

* * *

It's dark when they arrive back at the palace, and Eleanor is in no mood to see anyone else for the rest of the night. She promises Robert she'll be there first thing in the morning at seven for a briefing with Rachel and James to discuss the game plan for the day ahead. Jasper leads her into the palace from the car, bypassing Liam and Helena who are waiting for them in the entrance hall. Liam and Jasper nod to each other, but Eleanor ignores him, and Liam doesn't press because he sees the look on her face and he knows that now isn't a good time to press for details.

He's sure that Robert will be extremely forthcoming about _where_ exactly they found Jasper Frost, and what exactly was going on in Bletchley Park, once their sister is well out of earshot.

"I'm not sorry. I had a job to do, and I did it. I'm not going to apologize for it, Eleanor. While I am sorry that I did cause you to worry, I'd do it again if it meant we stopped the explosions," he says once they're in her bedroom. He leans back against the closed doors, his hands are still firmly wrapped around the handles behind his back, as if he's worried she might strike or tell him to get out because she's still in a mood.

"I know that, thank you," she snaps, dropping her body down into one of the chairs, looking longingly at the small bar on the other side of the room. Jasper follows her gaze, and wordlessly steps forward and begins fixing her a glass of whiskey, and then himself one before he brings it over and dangles it in his fingertips in front of her face, eyebrows raised. She narrows her eyes, and takes it from him and slowly lifts the glass to her lips, allowing the warm amber liquid to flow into her mouth, and smoothly down her throat.

The burn doesn't bother her anymore. It hasn't for a long time.

Jasper sits down across from her, deliberately holding her gaze as he lifts the tumbler to his mouth.

The burn doesn't bother him, either.

But the way she's looking at him right now does.

"I thought you were dead. I thought that I would never see you again, Jasper."

She drains her glass then, and then sets it down on the table in front of her, her expression tortured. He has no idea the hell she's gone through today because she hasn't been very forthcoming. She's entirely disregarded her entire well being because she was worried about _his_.

She's exhausted.

"It's going to take a lot more than a shitty homemade explosive to take me down, Princess," he murmurs, taking another sip.

"You could have told me what you've been doing was dangerous."

"I didn't want you to worry."

"I'm a big girl, Jasper," she sighs as he stands up and makes his way over to her. He moves the glass away from where she's sat it down, and sits on the edge of the table so he's looking right at her. "I know that you have some twisted sense of duty and you feel the need to protect me from everything, and everyone, but you have to remember that I've survived the last twenty-one years without you-"

"-debatable-" she shoots him a death glare for interrupting her.

"-and I will continue to do so." _Even_ _after you're gone._

He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, and looks her straight in the eye because he knows exactly what she's saying. He's always been able to read her like a book, and she supposes it's because of whatever skills he's brought over from Las Vegas.

"I know what you're saying, Eleanor," he says carefully. "And I'm _not_ leaving you. Not now. Not in six months down the road. _Not ever_. I've told you this hundreds of times before. What the hell do I have to do to make you believe me?!" His tone unintentionally takes on a harsher edge.

"Trust me?!" She snaps. "You can't keep things from me because you think that they might upset me, Jasper! It's not healthy!"

"I'm trying here, alright?" He groans. "Eleanor, _I love you._ I love you more than I've ever loved _anything_ , and I know I'm fucked up and that I did fuck up but _can you please stop dragging me over the coals because I've had a very stressful fucking day and I really fucking need you right now."_

Her lips are on his before the word _now_ has even fully left his mouth. He knows that the table can't support the weight of both of them, so he moves quickly, tearing his mouth away from hers so he can stand up. His hands grip her upper arm, pulling her to her feet before picking back up where they left off just mere moments before.

They tumble into bed and Eleanor can't really register how they got there so fast, but somehow they did and now he's lying on top of her, wearing entirely too much clothing. She takes her hands out of his hair, and then roughly grabs the hem of his jumper and gives it a harsh tug. He knows what she's after and he leans back on his calves, pulls it over his head, and drops it over the side of the bed before reaching for hers.

It doesn't take long for the rest of their clothing to disappear before he's got her pinned to the bed with his hips, thrusting deep inside of her.

His handling of her is rough and shaky at best; so unlike his usual conduct. He's urgent against her with his hands holding her tightly in place against him as she cradles his face into side side of her neck.

Even in this _way_ , they've come so, so far. There was a time when they couldn't even face each other because it was too intimate for the gravity of their situation, and now she can't not look at him. He's so beautiful, and it hurts to even look at him sometimes, but his insides are just as damages as hers. Vanity goes hand in hand with darkness, and nobody knows that better than she.

Jasper's panting against her neck and she knows he's close. She can feel it in his movement. In his touch. He's urgent. And she feels awful for doubting him because he's done so, so much today, and not just for her. Not just for her family. But for her whole goddamn country.

And nobody, save for a handful of people, will _ever_ know the gravity of the situation. Of what his team has done.

Eleanor knows she can't ask him to quit his job for her.

He groans loudly into her neck as he releases himself deep within her, his body blatantly shuddering against hers as she tightens her grip on his neck, and his hips with her thighs. Eventually he presses a soft, wet kiss to her shoulder before slowly pulling out, and rolling to his side. She moves to her stomach, and gently brushes his sweaty fringe out of his face before pressing her lips to his forehead.

"I don't know if anyone has said this to you yet today, but thank you," she murmurs against his ear. He wordlessly pulls her flush up against his side, and she rests her head in the crook of his arm as his fingers play with the ends of her hair.

They stay like that until morning.

* * *

Just like she promised, she's sitting at the breakfast table nursing a mug of tea and a blueberry scone shortly after seven in the morning.

They're still technically on lockdown in the palace until further notice, but Robert's going to be addressing the people on the situation at ten so they've all got to be in top form, so they've all congregated in the informal dining room.

There was once a time Eleanor is sure her mother would be appalled to have _the help_ sitting at the same table as them, but now isn't the time for her protests and Eleanor's been doing a good job of keeping her mouth shut because she's still half asleep and is being supported by Jasper who's got his arm draped over the back of her chair in an attempt to keep her upright.

Eleanor can't recall the last time she was up this early, and she doesn't want to, either.

James informs them that they'll be doing a survey of the damage- they meaning he and Robert, this afternoon but is requesting that everyone else stays home until the military gives the all clear.

Hundreds on hundreds of flights are disrupted because there's still a no fly zone in place over London for the next few hours, and until that's been sorted, Robert doesn't want anyone making any unnecessary appearances, or to be leaving the palace. Anything that is needed will be brought to them. He makes a point to look at Jasper when he says this because he damn well knows that he's just itching for an argument because he wants to leave and rejoin his team. Except he can't, not yet, because of who Eleanor is, and he could be seen as a target. Something will have to be discussed about this so in the event that they're ever placed under a lockdown again- _god forbid_ \- he would have to leave.

Eleanor grips his knee under the table because she doesn't miss their exchange, and she's warning him that now isn't the time to argue with Robert. They don't know each other well enough yet, and they have similar mannerisms and are both stubborn to boot. She can tell that her brother hasn't slept a wink in hours and it's shining on his face, and the pressure has only increased since he took temporary control of the government. There's mixed reaction from the people, and he's going to either ask the PM to resign or it's going to go towards a referendum to see what they want because it's clear that the man they elected to lead their country isn't fit to do so.

"So while you're out making appearances, we'll be here patiently awaiting your return so we can go over this again, and then tomorrow we'll be doing this as a family, is what you're saying, Robbie," Eleanor sighs, raising her head from it's spot on Jasper's shoulder. It's the first time she's spoken all morning since she's hauled herself out of bed.

"Must you make everything sound like I'm treating you like a child, Lenny?" Robert replies, crossing his arms. He's stressed, and the last thing he needs- _he wants_ \- is some smart talk coming from his sister. "I'm sorry, I don't want _you_ blown up, contrary to popular belief around here."

"I'm just saying, that if anyone was going to blow us up, _Your Majesty_ , it would have happened by now and you don't need to keep us locked in here like caged animals."

"Don't start throwing titles around like that, _Princess_ , it's not very becoming," he snarks back. "I've been up for over twenty-four hours, in case you haven't noticed. I'm sorry that you feel that way but if it bugs you that much you can leave and go back to bed."

Eleanor raises her eyebrows, because she can't remember the last time that he's called her by her full name, on purpose. She knows she's riling him up, and she shouldn't be taking her own frustrations out on him. Especially now.

"I'm sorry," she says finally. "I know you're stressed Robbie and if there's anything you need me to do, I'll do it. No arguments, no questions asked."

"That's the only thing I want." He sighs, rubbing his face tiredly, and then directs the conversation back to the itinerary that James has formed for them today.

Two hours later, Robbie sits in one of the more informal sitting rooms, still in the same clothes he'd had on for the last twenty-four or so hours, looking tired as hell as he addresses the people. It's being broadcast on every major network all over the world, and he tells them that they've survived this sort of thing before, and they've emerged victorious, and will do so once more. That he's proud to lead this country forward, and rebuild for the better. That he sees this as an opportunity to showcase how great Britain actually is as they move forward. That he and his family are no different from all of them, and that each one of them have been personally affected by this tragedy, and once they're sure that everything has been secured, they will be readily available to assist with the rebuild. That he will be meeting with government officials this afternoon to start discussing the transit situation in London because once again, their underground has been blown to shit and will need a complete overhaul. He tells them that it may seem dark right now, but everything will be okay. That they're all in this together.

She's never been more proud of her brother. Eleanor reads the tweets throughout the broadcast, and the people are seeing it too. They don't see someone who has been dressed up for them to tell them that it's all going to be okay. They see a man who hasn't slept because he's been working round the clock trying to save his country, and his people. They're proud to have him as their King, and he that his father would be so, so proud of the man that he's become since he's ascended the throne.

She can see it on all of their faces as they watch him from behind the camera. She can see how much he cares for _them._ His people. His _family_. Eleanor unconsciously moves closer to Jasper as Robert wraps up his speech, and he puts his arm around her shoulders, and squeezes gently.

* * *

"What you said last night, about me trusting you? Of course I do, Eleanor. And I know I fucked up, and I've been thinking. I've been thinking for a while, actually-"

"Why does it sound like you're bloody proposing to me, Jasper Frost?"

Jasper falls silent as she cuts him off. It's late, and they're in her bed. It's pitch dark in the room and she can't see a bloody thing, including his face. He's not one to joke. He never has been. He's always been a straight shooter and elusive as fuck because that's how he was raised, and it's always going to be ingrained in him whether he wants it there or not.

It's just like the old saying; _you can take the boy out of Las Vegas, but you can't take Las Vegas out of the boy._

They fall silent for several minutes, neither of them moving. She's tense because she's got herself convinced that she said the wrong thing because she's guilty of thinking about it.

She was thinking about it before she even entertained the notion of letting him back into the palace, because she knew that he _wasn't going to leave_. She couldn't bring him back in because until _she was sure._

Three months of sneaking around. Hardly any time spent together in public. Still wanted to kill him about ninety percent of the time, but right now it's at about ninety-seven, because she's more annoyed at herself for saying what she just bloody did. _Why would he want to marry her, anyway?_

Not saying that she'd marry him. The very thought of it scared her more than anything because she never saw herself as a kept woman, ever. Eleanor Henstridge was _not_ wife material. Especially for peasant-blooded, thieving, hot headed Americans named Jasper Frost.

He rustles next to her in the bed, and moves until he's pressed up against her side. She can hardly make out his handsome features in the darkness. "What if I was?" he counters, "does the idea of me being your _husband_ twist your knickers, _Princess_?"

Eleanor's eyes purposefully roll back into her head and she scoffs, throwing her legs over his under the heavy duvet, making sure to kick his shin in the process. "I would have thought that the mere thought of _me_ as anyone's wife was laughable, let alone _yours."_

"But it's a notion you've entertained, yes?" Jasper says carefully, propping his head up on his hand so he's peering down over her. She curses him internally for using her own quips against her. He smirks when she clues into what he's doing. Her expression, however remains impassively careful as he hovers over her head, watching her.

"It may have crossed my mind when I was thinking of ways to keep you in the palace on the drive to Bletchley. And again when I was on my way into that building," she admits, her tone just as cautious his.

"But not before that. Not before _this."_

"Of course not, Jasper. Don't be ridiculous," she snaps at him then, and attempts to roll away, but he's too fast. His arm darts out and grabs her shoulder, forcing her to lie on her back, half underneath of him.

"So? _Would you do it?"_ He breathes into her ear, his lips brushing over her ear as he pulls away.

"Would I do what?" she whispers, placing her hands on his shoulder as his lips and tongue continue their gentle assault on the soft column of her throat. He positions himself over her then, and settles himself between her thighs. On his second trip back up, he cups her face in his hand, firmly, and lowers his mouth to her ear once more.

" _Marry me, Eleanor."_

Her fingers tighten on his tense shoulders, so much so she can feel her nails piercing his flesh. His words are echoing in her head, and she's temporarily stopped breathing because she's not sure if he's actually asking or if he takes her for an idiot right now as if she didn't fucking clue into what he was saying.

She must be digging him good because Jasper suddenly hisses, and his forehead drops to her shoulder as his other hand tries to bat hers off of him.

" _Okay_ ," she chokes out, and then he tenses.

Jasper pulls back then, and frames her face in his hands. " _Okay_ ," he agrees, nodding, and lowers his mouth to hers.

The last time that they had agreed on something by saying ' _okay'_ , was she had asked him to leave and not come back. Now, it's the opposite.

* * *

The next morning she's awoken by his lips on her neck, his hand snaking down her arm to clasp tightly around her wrist. Her back arches up as she stretches awake, and Jasper pulls her arm up out of the tangle of blankets between them, and holds onto her delicate hand, and slides something cool and thin onto her finger.

That certainly grabs her attention.

Eleanor cracks one eye open to see what the hell he thinks he's doing.

Jasper moves his hand away and holds her long, thin fingers out in front of her face so she can see what he's placed there. The ring is a deceptively simple, lightweight design with two central bezel set cut diamonds in the openwork centre of the rectangular surround. It's surrounded by a number of smaller diamonds, setting the two larger ones in a rectangle, set in a thin golden and platinum band. It's a beautiful Art Deco design, and she's in love.

"Vintage. From the 1920's. Found it in Paris in a jewelry store you may or may not have went into on your summer tour," he explains, gently running his thumb over it as she pulls it in close to her face to get a better look, her brow furrowed. "Shopkeeper said that you fawned all over it, but couldn't commit to buying something so beautiful. I told him I'd buy it for you and give it to you were ready. I've been keeping it in my wallet ever since."

Eleanor's eyes flutter shut, and she curls her fingers around his, holding his hand tightly.

" _I love you,"_ he whispers. "I've _never_ said that to anyone. _Just you."_


	14. Epilogue: An End Has a Start

**A/N:** here we are! I didn't see the point in dragging out the inevitable. Just wanted to say thank you again for supporting me in this endeavor. I read each and every one of your reviews and tried my best to reply when possible. November is still a ways away, but at least filming starts soon so we can all hone in on that, and there's tons of great stories out there to help us all get by. Again, thank you so much for reading and reviewing and I hope this Epilogue does this story to justice.

* * *

 _ **Epilogue: An End Has a Start**_

* * *

There wasn't a right way to go about telling Robert that Jasper had asked her to marry him. There wasn't a wrong way, either. So she figured the best course of action was to not tell him at all. Eleanor knew that he was stressed enough as it is, the last thing he needed was to have a bloody aneurysm over who she's done, and what she plans on doing with them.

So, for another three months, she wears her engagement ring on her right hand, and it blends in just fine with the other fashion jewelry she wears. They haven't told a single soul, and she almost forgets what it looks like on her left hand. They rarely discuss it, but Eleanor sees it in his eyes every time he looks at her, especially in public when there are other people around.

But then one morning in particular she forgets to switch it back to her right. Something is punishing her because it's Helena who notices that Eleanor's been particularly fond of that ring as of late because she's always wearing it.

And now it's sitting on her left hand on _that_ finger, and it's so, so obvious that it's an engagement ring.

Her jaw drops slightly and she places her teacup down on the table.

"Eleanor, darling," she says, very carefully.

"Yes, mum?" She asks innocently, lifting her own cup to her lips, and takes a sip of her warm tea, with her left hand.

"That ring, where is it from again?"

"You'll have to ask _Jasper_ , mother. _He's_ the one who bought it."

Her words hang in the air between them. Eleanor and Helena are staring each other into the floor. Neither will say it, and they're baiting each other, almost gleefully.

Eleanor can practically see the cogs turning in her brain as she figures out how long exactly her daughter has been wearing that particular ring. Her eyebrows are raised, and she's wiped her face clean of any telling expression because she wants to hear _her_ say it. Eleanor lowers her mug back down to the table, and resumes eating her omelet and scrolling through her mobile as if nothing's out of the ordinary.

The country has slowly been getting back on track, and Robert's relinquished his rights as an absolute monarch, and resumed his role as a constitutional king as the country elected a new, younger, more strong willed leader to be at it's helm, who is more than happy to work with the young King to make Britain the best it could be. Eleanor's done the best she can by helping out at emergency shelters, and talking to people who have lost family members, because she knows just as well as anyone what it's like to lose a loved one to tragedy. No one doubts her as anything but genuine because she refuses to speak by script, much to her mother's chagrin.

While her relationship with Jasper Frost is officially sanctioned by the King himself, they've taken extra steps to keep their private life private. Eleanor can't recall the last time that she stepped foot in a club and Jasper's just fine keeping it that way because he prefers her to be not in a crowd of loud drunks because he himself has had a fair share of dealing with her in bar mode when he followed her around the world, so many months ago.

She shoves the final bit of omelet in her mouth, and sets her fork down. She drains her mug of tea, and gracefully rises to her feet, because it's become painstakingly clear that her mother isn't going to interrogate her any further.

Just as she's about to reach the door, it swings open, with Robert at it's helm.

"Morning, Lenny," he says smoothly.

"Morning," she grumbles, moving to push past him.

"Robert, darling," Helena calls from across the room. "Did Jasper Frost approach you about proposing to your sister?"

Robert snorts as he takes her empty seat. Wordlessly, a maid enters the room and her empty plate is swapped out, and a new one is placed down in front of him with his preferred breakfast foods, complete with a steaming mug of coffee. "No, have you gone mad?"

"Because _your sister_ has an engagement ring on her left hand," Helena continues. Eleanor can feel her eyes burning in the back of her head and she halts in the doorway, her right hand gripping the frame tightly.

" _WHAT_?!" Robert bellows, and then the chair scrapes across the floor, and he's back on his feet thundering towards her. Eleanor swears under her breath because she's just clued into what her mother's playing at. No, the Queen has no say in what she can or cannot do. Helena damn well knows that she has no control over her daughter. She hasn't for a long time.

But Robert, dear, sweet, Robert, certainly does. Eleanor will listen to no one- not even her American _fiance_ \- save for Robert.

He's behind her in a flash, grabbing at her wrist, and spinning her around to face him with military precision, all the while pulling her left hand up in front of his face to see the offending accessory in question.

"He's got some set of balls," he says haughtily. His usually, kind green eyes are narrowed into slits as they take in the ring on his baby sister's finger. "Jesus Christ. I'm about to go down to his bloody office and tell him what he can and cannot do around here. Treats his place like it's a goddamn holiday home-"

"Compared to what he usually lives in, _Your Majesty_ , it is," Eleanor replies, wrenching her hand free from his grasp. "I'm sure the thought of _me_ living in a tiny, one bedroom house in Shoreditch off the high street is really doing it for you, Robbie. I mean, if you don't want him here, I can start going there again."

"Oh, the hell you are!" He exclaims. "I've seen that _closet_ he lives in, Lenny!"

"You have, have you?" She rounds on him then, because she's never heard _this_ interesting piece of information before. "What business, _pray tell,_ does the King of England have at _my_ fiance's house? In _Shoreditch_?"

Robert pales, because he realizes that he's said too much. Eleanor can count on one hand how many nights she and Jasper have spent apart since they outed themselves. In fact, he's all but taken the liberty to move himself into the palace. Forcing her to clear a spot in the closet. Making her surrender a nightstand for his spare shit. Made himself a parking spot in the lot with _their_ cars, among things.

He doesn't accompany her to much, but when he does the papers and tabloids are in a flurry because he's so goddamn good looking in a suit. The palace has been particularly mum on what and where he works, other than that he is American, and works for Intelligence, and is her former bodyguard. All of this was confirmed _after_ a number of carefully chosen words were sent stateside from both palace security and the future Duke himself warning that if _anything_ were to get out about his past, they wouldn't hesitate to consider it slander against the British crown, and charges would promptly be laid against the perpetrator.

" _Well_?" Eleanor says silkily, taking a step toward her brother. Eleanor doesn't give a flying fuck that he's King.

"Yeah," he glares down at her. "Went round for beer and to watch the match a few times. It's the only way I could get to know the bloke without _you_ hovering around. Good taste in beer. None of that American piss. Just as high strung as _you._ "

"You son of a bitch, I do not hover! If anyone hovers it's _mum_ ," she seeths, casting a dirty glare over her brother's shoulder at their mother.

"How long?" He demands, ignoring her outburst. "How long have you been hiding this, _Eleanor Victoria Henstridge_?"

She presses her lips together into a thin line. "Three months," she admits.

"I hope you enjoyed that secrecy, _dear sister of mine_ , because you'll be getting married in _five_. You know how we do things around here. Now, I suggest that you air any other grievances you're hiding away and send a quick text message to that common blood fiance of yours letting him know what he's going to be coming home to tonight. And he is to get rid of that goddamn flat and move in here- _as if he already hasn't_ \- and Rachel will call the photographer; he will be here tomorrow for your official engagement photos for the announcement that we'll be putting out on Thursday. Do you understand me?"

"I fucking hate you, Robert, did you know that?"

"Good. Now, get of my goddamn sight."

* * *

" _Five months?"_ Jasper's tone is hoarse as she breaks the news to him later that night. She accosted him down in the parking lot and dragged him into her room before someone else got to him and started shooting off questions.

"Yes, _five months_ ," Eleanor hisses as she paces in front of the door. He's sitting in one of the chairs with his head in his hands. His long fingers are knotted in his dark blonde hair as he processes every new piece of information that she's thrown at him over the last twenty minutes. "That's what happens when you propose to a _Princess_ , Jasper. Short engagement. Televised wedding. Designer clothes. New titles, and new, official residence because I sure as shit am not living here with the rest of my family once I marry the likes of _you_. And I am _not_ giving up my last name. If anything you should take _mine_."

" _This_ is ridiculous," he mumbles. "Five months…"

"Yes, _and_ our family's photographer will be by tomorrow evening to take our photographs. They'll be bringing you a brand new Burberry suit. Black. We'll be doing it in one of the lounges, I think. Something less outrageous-"

"Eleanor, will you calm the fuck down?" He says loudly, but he doesn't look up. She somehow shuts up, but the pacing doesn't stop. She keeps making small, irritated noises under her breath. "It'll be fine. It's just a couple of pictures."

A harsh, cold laugh falls out from between her lips. "That's rich. YouTube my parents' wedding. And tell me it's just a couple of pictures. I'm the first one from this family to get married, Jasper. I'm their only daughter. It's going to be a _spectacle_." Her voice falls back into a low hiss as she approaches him. He slowly raises head to see her standing over him. Eleanor stands her ground. She's not backing down from this.

"Len," he snaps, "I'm not going to apologise for proposing to you. Maybe it wasn't the best idea for us to keep it quiet for three months, but it is what it is. I love you. We're getting married, although right now I'm struggling to remember why the fuck I thought it was a good idea to do so."

"Well that makes two of us," she snarls back.

"We'll get married. You'll get a dress made. I'll wear a suit. It'll be a thing."

"Go tell that to my mother-"

"So that's what this is about."

"Can we talk about something else please?"

"I'd rather not talk at all, if we're going for honesty," He murmurs, reaching up and putting his arms around her waist, pulling her in close. He presses his lips to the exposed skin of her abdomen between the top of her trousers and the hem of her top. Jasper's lips are hot against her stomach as he looks up to meet her burning gaze.

* * *

"Honestly, Eleanor-"

"Get out of here and go to the church, mother. I want Robert, and Robert _only._ He's the only one coming in the car with me and he's the only one walking me down the goddamn isle," her tone is ice, but her face remains relaxed in her vanity chair as two makeup artists work on perfecting a dramatic, natural look on her face.

Her long, dark, loose curls hang over the back of the chair, and she's still dressed in her black silken robe that she's basically lived in for the past two days because of final dress fittings. Her phone buzzes in her hand, but she ignores it.

"It's your wedding day, Eleanor. A girl should have her mother with her," Helena argues, standing her ground.

" _Should_ , yes," Eleanor replies, cracking open an eye to look at her. "But I'm sure other girls mothers don't nag as much as you. It's _my_ wedding day. Not yours."

"How are you so calm right now?!"

"Because I know I don't have to deal with _you lot_ for the next three weeks once this is all over," she says without hesitation, referring to their upcoming honeymoon on a small, private island in Ibiza.

"All done, Princess. We'll fix your tiara in next, and then your veil, and then we'll get you in your dress," one of the assistants announces as the makeup brushes are set down. Eleanor straightens her body out, and inspects her face in the mirror before giving her nod of approval, but not before sending a glare toward her mother, warning her to keep her mouth shut.

Helena raises her eyebrows, and crosses her arms, challenging her.

It might be her wedding day, but it's obvious that Helena's not taking anything from her daughter today, either.

It takes another thirty minutes for them to get her hair in place around the tiara and long veil, before she kicks them out of the room so that her mother can help her into her dress.

It's simple, but it's entirely _her._ A scoop neck, long sleeve open back gown with a long train is exactly what she wanted, with little embellishment. She's wearing a pair of diamond earrings on loan from the crown jewel collection to compliment the tiara she's wearing on her head.

She steps into the dress, and then shimmies it up her body with Helena helping her with the back so she doesn't mess up on the train, and then does the few buttons up, securing it in its place. Helena carefully fluffs her hair over her shoulders so it's cascading gently down her bare back, and meets her gaze in the mirror.

"No one will ever love you as much as he does," Helena says softly, resting her hands on her shoulders. "All I ever wanted was for you to have a chance at love. I didn't care who it came from, but I hoped it was from someone who was more than just your bodyguard. I thought you deserved more because I know how it turned out for _me_. Everything he's done, he's done for _you_ , Eleanor."

"I know what he's done, mother. I know where he's from, and how he feels about me. I love him, more than I've _ever_ loved anything. I feel comfortable with him. I know it took me a while to get here but it is what it is, _please_ just let it go. I'm marrying _Jasper_ in about an hour and a half, in case you've forgotten."

"You're marrying _Jasper_ ," she echoes. "I'll never marry _Alistair_ , darling. You've already gotten everything I've ever wanted. I'm happy for you, I truly am. You're a sight to behold right and I'll be offended if that boy isn't on his knees the moment he sees you."

"Thanking me for allowing this bloody wedding to even happen, I hope?" Robert slides in, announcing his presence. He's dressed in a stunning black suit and navy blue tie. Robert might be the King, but today, he's not. He's left his medals and sashes at home, because he doesn't want to overshadow his sister on her wedding day.

He's sure that she would commit a very violent murder if he did.

Today, he is just her older brother walking her down the aisle.

"Almost showtime. Hurry up, because I got Hassan to put some mickeys in the back seat for us. Now, I don't know about you, Lenny, but _I_ am about ready for them. Liam just texted and said that they're leaving Kensington soon," he explains as he joins her side. "You look _stunning_ , by the way. Brides everywhere are going to be shitting on you for weeks in jealousy."

"Honesty, Robert," Helena rolls her eyes. "You're the _King of England-_ "

"Took the day off, mum. Sorry. You're the reigning monarch, today only. But I am right now and I'm telling you to get out of this room and get in the car downstairs and go to that church before Eleanor slits your throat."

Helena sighs, defeated. She glares at her two children, waving a warning finger between them. " _Behave_."

"Goodbye, mother," Eleanor waves her off. The second she's gone, she turns to her purse and pulls out a packet of cigarettes and lights one, inhaling deeply.

"Hold that pose, I'll tweet that one out," Robert jokes, taking out one of his own and pushes open a window so the smoke doesn't stay in the room, and clings to her dress.

"Have you seen him?" She asks, looking out the window. The Mercedes Benz that is to transport her from the palace to the church is now parked out front, and she knows they'll have to leave soon. There's a massive crowd at the palace gates, eager to get a look at the Princess before her wedding day.

Robert shakes his head, and flicks his ash out the window as she stubs out the last of hers, and flicks it carelessly over the ledge. "No. Just Liam."

She nods, but she's not really paying attention.

They stand in silence for a few moments, and Robert takes a deep breath, and stands in front of her.

"Dad would be so proud of you, Lenny. I know I wasn't there for the brunt of it, but you've come so far. You picked a shady fuck that irritates the shit out of mum, and he worships the ground you walk on-"

"It's a good thing you're not giving the toast, _Robert._ You have such a way with words," she says dryly.

Eleanor and Robert stare at each other for several minutes, before a loud knock sounds on the door, and Hassan breezes in.

"Your Majesty, Your Highness," he greets. His eyes crinkle around the corners as he takes in the sight of Eleanor in her dress. "If I may be so bold, Princess?"

"I would be offended if you didn't, Hassan," she replies, crossing her arms.

"Frost is going to shit himself when he sees you. And Louise wants me to send a picture of your dress, if I'm allowed."

"She'll see it at the reception," Robert scowls. "Did you do what I asked?"

"Six shots of Patron are awaiting you in the car," he confirmed. "Isn't there some law about you not drinking before a wedding?"

"Call Liam," she clips. "Speaker."

Robert pulls out his phone, and does what he's told.

"We're on time!" Liam answers defensively.

"How much have you drank?" Eleanor demands.

"What?"

"How much have you and my goddamn _fiance_ drank?"

"Uh, 2 beers for breakfast. Having whiskey now in the car?" He says cautiously. Eleanor raises her eyebrows to Hassan. Robert disconnects the call, and drapes his arm over Hassan's shoulder.

" _Royal wedding, bruv,_ " he says, grinning. "Get used to it. Come, Lenny. Smile pretty for the cameras."

A slow, heart-stoppingly beautiful smile spreads on her lips as she looks at her brother, who offers her his arm. She takes it, and he leads her from her bedroom through the palace.

James is waiting for them at the double doors, and he smiles widely when he sees her.

"You look absolutely beautiful, Princess," he greets. "Are you two ready to get this show on the road?"

"I'm ready for those shots in the car," she reasons. "Let's get this over with."

* * *

His hand was burning on the exposed skin of her lower back. Her older relatives had tutted at the sight, and the fact that her mother had allowed her to go with something more modern and less traditional. It's late, and they're both tired from smiling for other people and haven't had a moment to themselves all bloody day.

"I honestly can't remember if I told you that you look beautiful, but you do," Jasper breathes against her ear as he spins her on the dance floor, before pulling her back in against him. She's long abandoned her veil and tiara, leaving her hair in loose, messy curls down her back. His tie is loose and they're both slightly drunk from all the wine they've been drinking all damn night.

"You're not bad yourself, _Your Highness,"_ she replies, smirking against his ear.

"Keep talking like that," he groans quietly. "Mm."

"New money," she rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Jasper-"

"You sound just like your mother when you talk like that, you know?"

"Jasper, I swear-" he cuts her off by pressing his lips firmly against hers. The cameras start flashing around them. It's been like this all night. She's done. He's done. She wants to kiss her husband without it being a spectacle. "Can we please leave now? It's almost midnight. I've been on my feet all day and this dress is heavy."

"Whatever you want, Princess," he agrees.

"We're leaving," Eleanor announces, turning in his arms. He keeps his arm firmly planted on her waist. "We'll see you in three weeks. Don't call. Don't care who dies."

"The happiest bride in the world," Robert observes as Liam rests his elbow on his shoulder. He's equally as drunk.

"Jasper, you know _what_ you married, right?"

Eleanor raises her eyebrows. Jasper's grip on her waist tightens. "Yeah, she's insane. I know. Come on, _Mrs. Frost_."

"I'm not taking your last name," she's stubborn. He pulls her from the room. "Why would I lower myself to that?"

"I know, but it's nice to see you fired up about it," he replies as they round the corner to her bedroom. Their bedroom, technically. But she won't own up to it because they'll be moving out into another royal residence in town upon their return. If they want privacy, it's not going to happen under the roof of Buckingham Palace. She's haunted that room for twenty-two years. She refuses to haunt it for another twenty-two with him.

The room is dark, and the moonlight illuminates off of her white dress as she turns to face him. Jasper sheds his jacket, and then slowly loosens his black tie, never once taking his eyes off of hers. She slowly pulls the pins out of her hair, and her curls fall loosely over her shoulders. He takes a tentative step towards her, and threads his fingers into her hair, gently massagin g her scalp. Her eyes flutter shut as she leans into his touch.

There was a time she was sure that she'd never do any such thing.

There was a time she couldn't even look at him while he touched her.

There was a time that all he wanted from her was sex, and maybe a priceless diamond.

She never saw herself as a married woman. Let alone married to _him_.

" _Mr. Henstridge."_

"That's not funny."

The corners of her lips turn up into a small smile as she opens her eyes and stares him down, before she steps back, turns around, and presents her back to him. He gets the hint, and slowly undoes the buttons in the small of her back, making sure to press his fingers on each new piece of exposed flesh, until his fingers graze the top of her lacy knickers on the inside of her dress.

"Babe," he breathes. He knows that she's not wearing a bra. There's no room in that dress for a bra. He reaches up, and pushes her dress forward, off of her shoulders. It falls forward, and she tugs on her sleeves, pulling it off of her. Eleanor moves out of his embrace, and roughly pulls the dress away from her body, and then steps out, leaving it in a heap of white, silky fabric in the middle of the floor, and leaving her in a pair of white hip-hugging cheeky knickers.

"You're gorgeous, Eleanor," he murmurs, approaching her from behind once more. "I love you, so goddamn much."

"I do like you, Jasper from Las Vegas," she replies, turning around and pulls his face down to hers. "I love you very, very much."


End file.
